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 Posted: Tue May 24, 2011 10:06 am
 The Hogwarts express is the train that every student must take to get to, or from, the school. It's an old steam engine, but roomy and spacious enough. A trolly rolls along the aisles selling little sweets and treats every now and then. Here, students can (and are somewhat forced to) mingle and chat along the long, long ride to Hogwarts. Along this ride, friendships can be established or broken, and there's no classes and few teachers to distract anyone. So we can all focus on good old fashioned socializing.
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Posted: Fri May 27, 2011 6:52 pm
 xxx When he was younger, Piran Papillion Piran had always needed to be dragged out of bed. He would groan and roll and toss and little other than the smell of a hot breakfast or a bucket of icewater would get him up and going. But, the past year or so, Papillion had taken to rousing himself in the mornings (much to the delight of his servants). And today, especially, he'd been raring to go at the crack of dawn (much to the dismay of his very sleepy servants). He'd barely slept the night before, and he'd kept going back and fourth to rearrange his packed trunks (he had two of them - one for his personal belongings and school supplies, the other for his books and other knicknacks he insisted on taking along). Practically all night he'd rolled this way and that, too excited to try and sleep. He dozed a little bit here and there, but he didn't sleep deeply. He couldn't stop thinking about his first day of school. What would it be like? His mother had attended a different school, but his father had been a Hogwarts graduate himself. He hadn't told Papillion too much about his adventures in the school (since, before he died, Papillion was still too young to be worrying about attending) but from what he'd heard from Longfheng and the servants, his father had been pretty rambunctious back then, too. He'd studied up on the school and its traditions (he was excited to see the sky-ceiling) and he felt he'd fully prepared himself. But, in that night, he was plagued both by excitement as well as doubt. What would the students be like? Would they like him? What if they didn't? What if they made fun of him for being small? Or because he had a high pitched voice? What if he was bad at flying, and they made fun of him for that? What if me messed up in potions class and a giant three headed dragon came out of his cauldron and ate half his classmates and then he was permanently expelled from Hogwarts? What if they threw him in Azkaban for it? After a few panic attacks and some difficult breathing, Papillion was eventually able to calm himself down. He'd just have to make sure that those things didn't happen, and if they did, he'd just fix them. Simple as that. That was what his mother always said. By the time morning rolled around, he was once again more excited than nervous. Since most of his servants were still only just waking up, he settled on a breakfast of cold cereal instead of hotcakes and eggs. He got dressed as soon as he was done, eagerly wiggling into his shiny new Hogwarts class robes. They were plain black, since he had no house as of yet. But the robes were obviously very fine. They'd been custom made for him, out of a certain combination of cotton and silk. It was delicately woven, and obviously of a higher quality than most. Not that Papillion himself was aware of this. He knew that some students waited until the train was close to the school before changing into their robes, but where did they change? He didn't like the idea of changing in front of someone else (the dorm rooms hadn't yet occurred to him, in his excitement) and he was excited to wear his new robes, too! By the time he was done with all of this, his servants were up and about, and one of them was setting about bringing his trunks downstairs, levitating the load expertly. In no time, Papillion was bouncing about the door.
"Come on! Come on! I'm ready to go! Let's go!" His servant raised an eyebrow, saying
"Master Piran, if we leave right this instant, you'll be stuck waiting on the train for hours, practically." Piran just nodded excitedly. The servant shook his head, "Well all right. Perhaps we can do a bit of last minute shopping, just to make sure we've covered everything." He turned to the fireplace and tossed a handful of floo powder into it, saying "Diagon Ally!" And stepped into it. In all honesty, Papillion hadn't done much traveling outside of his mountainous estate, and wasn't very used to floo powder travel. He swallowed, but kept his head and followed after, thankfully arriving from the same fireplace as his servant, Louie.
Papillion and Louie emerged from a port next to a Diagon Alley vendor selling sweet things like sugar quills and the like. Despite having only just arrived, Papillion was eager to get in on the sweets, and immediately bought a pack of them. Only rolling his eyes slightly, Louie obediently tagged along after Piran as the boy darted to and fro over the alley, occasionally venturing into shops and poking around, sometimes buying useless trinkets or anything which caught his eye. Louie was his main caretaker, these days. He was appointed by Piran (and Longfheng agreed) because he liked Louie the most. Sadly, the affections weren't really returned. Louie was raised a poor boy, and had only finished Hogwarts a few years ago himself. As such, he was still young and short-tempered, and however loyal and tolerant he was of Piran, he couldn't help but be annoyed by the youth. After some time, Piran found himself in a pet shop. He was surrounded by brightly colored birds, little fork-tailed dogs, and an assortment of owls, toads, rats, and cats. With a grin on his face, he moved this way and that, even listening eagerly as the shopkeep explained each one. He was particularly fascinated by a pair of dancing rats. In the end, however, he trudged out empty-handed. His anxiety had kicked in, and suddenly the idea of being in charge of another life seemed like a very, very bad idea. Louie frowned, but said nothing. After some time of wandering, Louie tapped Papillion on the shoulder.
"It's about time for the train to arrive, Master Piran. We should go. I do need to get back to the estate, after all." Piran was a little disappointed, but nodded none the less and trotted along with Louie to the platform.
He stared at the flocks of muggles they passed by in the train station. It was so strange, they were just like wizards, but so very different. One man in a suit passed, talking apparently to no one with some kind of rock pressed to his cheek. Piran tugged on Louies sleeve, pointing and asking (rather loudly)
"Louie! Louie! What's that?" Louie merely pulled Papillions wrist down quickly, walking a little faster with a frown. They arrived at the appropriate pillar, where Louie paused, straightening his jacket. "Just do as I do, alright young master?" And like a cat his servant strode forward, disappearing through the brick along with Papillions two trunks on the trolly. Papillion swallowed, before charging into the brick and bracing himself for an impact. Fortunately, none came, and when he opened his eyes he was standing on platform nine and three quarters next to Louie, who was frowning slightly as per usual. The Hogwarts express looked as though it had only just arrived, steam still spilling out from beneath the wheels and such. There were already some people boarding, but for the most part the platform was empty. "I'll take care of your trunks, young master. You go ahead and board the train." Papillion nodded, staring at the train with a mixture of excitement and very intense anxiety. He didn't say anything, which was unusual, as Papillion was very excitable and talkative, usually. Louie looked down at him with a frown deeper than usual, then coughed lightly. When Papillion lifted his gaze to his servant, Louie was holding out a little brown box to him. "Don't open this until you board and are seated comfortably, understand Master Piran?" Papillion was confused and bewildered. He gingerly took the box, which felt light enough. What confused him most was that odd scowl that Louie had on his face over that red blush across his cheeks. With a huff his servant turned. "Well, I'm off. Good luck at school, Master Piran." Papillion waved solemnly, and for a few minutes simply stood, alone on the platform.
It was one of those moments where the sadness came back. Louie was his friend, as was Longfheng, but friends weren't supposed to be the ones sending you off to your first day of school. He could hear mothers giving their kids advice and telling them to stay out of trouble in the background, here and there a father making some kind of comment or joke, and kids like him groaning at them. Why couldn't he be like that, too? He bit his lower lip, and for a moment, hung his head and let tears slide down his cheeks. He tried to stop, because he knew he must have looked like a big baby, standing there crying over nothing. But we all know that when you try to stop crying, you only cry more. So Papillion did what he usually did in these situations.... he ran and hid. He boarded the train, darting past the one or two students who were already there, found himself an empty compartment, slammed the doors shut, curled up on one seat, laid his head on his knees with the box next to his stomach and cried, long and hard. He was angry at himself for crying, for missing his parents. He was angry that he was starting off the year like this. He knew he should move on; that was what Longfheng always said. No tears could ever bring them back, but.... but it was just so unfair!! After a good five minutes of his crying it slowly ebbed away, replaced by a curiosity. Louie wasn't much of a gift-giver (in fact, he'd never given Papillion anything) so what was in the box, that he'd been possessed to give it to him? Uncurling from his fetal position on the seat, he sniffled, swiping at his eyes with a long sleeve as he stared down at the little brown box in his lap.... huh.
Gingerly, Papillion undid the twine keeping the box closed. The moment he did, the lid was pushed off and four black little eyes peered out at him. Two young rats twitched their noses at him and Papillions eyes lit up. They were the trick rat pair from the pet store!! One had a chocolate coat, and the other a black one (she was slightly smaller). The brown male stood up on his hind legs and made a small chittering noise while the black female started pawing at his sleeves. Instantly, Papillion's heart was lightened.
"Oh... oh wow! Geez, you two are cute!" The two stood up in unison, at this, and took to doing a little dance together inside of their box. Papillion laughed, reaching down and stroking the little black female behind one ear. "Wow.... what should I call you two...? Humm.... Oh, I know! You'll be Paris," he said, pointing to the brown rat "and you'll be Primrose!" The rats seemed pleased enough with this, and proceeded to dance about in delight on their little back feet, their front paws clasped together. Paris smiled down, watching them in awe. He didn't feel odd at all, using his parents names. After all, to him they were just 'mom' and 'dad.' Besides, he'd always liked their names. So Papillion sat in his compartment, for the moment, a little less lonely with his two new furry friends. It wouldn't be long before the next panic attack kicked in, though.
#CD3333
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Posted: Sat May 28, 2011 5:01 pm
  
"You'll be all right, won't you, Nevaeh?"
"Yeah."
"You know you can always write us, if you need anything.... or if you just want to talk."
"Yeah."
"Well, all right. You're sure you want to go there alone?"
"Yeah."
"Well, all right.... you're still so young. You're sure?"
"Yeah, Mom."
"If you're sure...." Nevs mother, Abigail, fretted over her fifteen year old son the way any mother would. Even if she was staring up at a grown a** man, she knew that he was still a child, a boy still seeking direction and guidance, even if he didn't act that way. She frowned up at her son, who stared down at her through glassy blue eyes, yet another cigarette dangling from his teeth. Abigail huffed.
"You know I wish you wouldn't smoke."
"I know."
"You just don't care?"
"...." The woman sighed, shaking her head and waving a hand at Nev as she turned away.
"At least let your father know before you leave. And you'll write to us as soon as you're settled in, won't you?"
"Sure, Mom." Nev was leaning in the doorway of the small house he lived in with his parents. It was spacious enough for three people to live comfortably, and that was about it. Nev had always been content with his little house, even if his parents weren't. In fact, the teen was rather fond of it. It was comfortable and inviting. Big houses always seemed empty and soulless to Nev. In front of him, his frail little mother was busy cooking some grits and bacon. She was a southern woman, and if she was good at anything, it was southern cooking. Nevs stomach growled loudly, pining after the food, but Nev merely shrugged it off. The food would be done when it was done. Until then, nothing he did was going to speed up the cooking process. His mother was, apparently, finished with her conversation with Nev, keeping her eyes down on her cooking and remaining silent. Nev took the hint, pushing himself off the door frame with his shoulder and turning on one heel, through the den and down the short hallway, to his fathers study. He paused outside the door a moment before quietly pushing it open. It hadn't been completely closed, and so gave way with little resistance. His father sat at his desk, chewing on the tip of a severely abused feather quill and staring down at some new kind of paperwork. His dark brown eyes stared over the rim of his glasses, and if the circles under his eyes and unshaven chin were any indication, he'd been up all night working again. He didn't even notice the door open and Nev walk in. Nev paused again, staring at his father. He made no move to catch his attention. After several minutes, his fathers nose twitched and he sneezed, upsetting his glasses and his quill. Rubbing his nose and furrowing his brow, the man looked up, finally to see Nev. He raised his eyebrows.
"Oh, Nevaeh! Are you ready to go? Oh, geez, I completely let time slip me by. All right, we'll grab some breakfast from your Mother, and then once we've made sure we've got everything, we can head out. Sound good?" Even as he spoke, the older man had stood up from his chair, replacing his quill and ink and going to is mirror, running a hand through his disheveled, fluffy brown hair. Nev watched him as he did, thinking (as he often did) that he would have resembled his father more, had he been born without his miraculous trait. Peachy skin, a long jawline, curly, messy chestnut colored hair, dark eyes. The tall, pale, blue-eyed blond looked nothing like either of his parents, or even like his grandfather (his grandfather was constantly changing, though). Then again, he could make himself look like them, if he wanted. Taking the cigarette from his lips between his index finger and thumb, Nev politely waited until his father was done with his rant before speaking.
"Dad, I'm going to the platform alone." At this, his father stopped, turning to look at Nev with raised eyebrows and a surprised, somewhat hurt expression on his face. Nev looked to the side. He wished his father wouldn't make a big deal out of this, but he knew full well that he would.
"Alone...? Now, Nevaeh, you're only fifteen. Getting to the platform by yourself.... I mean, I'm certain you could do it, but we're your parents! We should see you off. After all, we won't see you again until the holidays." Nev took a last, long drag of his cigarette before leaning down and putting it out on the bottom of his shoe.
"I'd rather you saw me off from here. It's always crowded, and we always get sidetracked. I'd like to just go, get on the train before it gets too full, and be done with it." His father frowned worriedly, pinching his thin eyebrows together in a look of concern. Nev knew that he was probably concerned that Nev was ashamed of them or something, or that he was going to meet with his grandfather instead. But, truth be told, Nev just wanted some time alone before he was shipped off to live with three other students in a dorm room.
Abigail was beginning to get a little worried at the long silence coming from the study down the hall. But, after a while, both Nev and her husband emerged, unscathed and (mostly) no worse for wear. Her husband looked tired and weary, and weighed very heavily by defeat. Nev looked the same as ever. She merely shook her head.
"All right, breakfast is ready." The meal was long, silent, and uncomfortable. Nevs parents were bother rather concerned for Nevs desire to make the trip to the platform alone. Nev remained silent. His mother, in her school days, had been a Hufflepuff, his father a Gryffindor. He'd been concerned when Nev was sorted into Slytherin, and had remained concerned ever since. Their family had never been terribly peaceful and balanced. Nev just wanted some time alone.
After breakfast, Nevs things were gathered quickly. His trunk was packed, and a small bag was slung over his shoulder, packed with a few books to read on the train as well as a change of clothes. He paused by the fireplace to say a last goodbye to his parents for the semester. He was sure that they'd planned on all sorts of advice speeches and the like, but now they remained mostly silent, only making sure to tell him to take care, be sure to write, and remind him that they loved him. Nev merely nodded, tossed a handful of floo powder into the flames, and stepped through. Nev felt a little bit bad for upsetting his parents, but he felt that trying to explain his motives to them would be a long, time-consuming process which, in the end, they still wouldn't understand. Talking to them hadn't ever done much for Nev, in the past. His grandfather was easier to talk with but, in the end, just as unaccepting. He emerged at the Leaky Cauldron, where he glided by without getting much attention drawn to him. He did look like an adult, after all. While Neveah had planned on browsing about the shops in diagon alley for a while, he found that he grew bored very quickly, and opted instead to go straight to the train. But not before making a quick pit stop. Ducking into one of the ice cream cafes, Nev politely made his way to a bathroom stall to make a quick change of clothes. Really, he just wanted to put on a bra so that he could change into a woman comfortably, but he did like the miniskirt. When Nev emerged, she turned one or two heads, mainly confused folk who'd seen her walk in as a man. But she was out of the cafe and walking on as a woman, clad in her usual wrinkled white button-up shirt, but now in a grey skirt that reached just above her knees and knee-high socks. Tossing her long hair over one shoulder, she made her way to the platform, wheeling her trunk along behind her as she set to pulling out another cigarette.
She wove her way through the muggle crowds, gliding through the appropriate wall and onto platform nine and three quarters. She deposited her trunk dutifully and paused, staring up at the Hogwarts express and taking a long drag of her cigarette. At this point she opted to switch out the cigarette for her favorite long silver pipe, which she withdrew from her shoulder bag. She leaned against one of the brick walls, stuffing something into the pipe before setting it alight. Immediately the pipe began to issue a shimmering, rainbow smoke, which Nev inhaled graciously. She stood for a few minutes, watching students beginning to drift onto the train. After a time, she decided to follow suit, adjusting her shoulder bad and stepping on board to find a cabin before they all filled up. Fortunately it was still early, and Nev found a suitable compartment with no hassle. She closed the door immediately, tossing her bag onto the racks overhead and opening the window just a crack. She then flopped down, kicking her booted feet up onto the seat opposite of her and withdrawing a little, well-worn paperback book. The silver pipe jutted from one corner of her lips, continuing to issue its rainbow smoke (which began to seep out from under the door in tiny rainbow puffs that rose up) and she continued to inhale. Finally, she felt relaxed.... comfortable. The silence, accompanied by the distant sounds of other students minding their own business.... it was nice. Nevaeh relished the moment while she could, knowing full well that eventually someone was going to barge in on her. But she could deal with that. She'd have to get used to being surrounded by people, after all.
#308014
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Posted: Wed Jun 08, 2011 10:58 pm
✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖ 
Catherine slowly opened the bedroom door, hoping to not wake the teenager that should be resting inside. It was the day that her daughter left to the odd school for the final time. The summer vacation had taken its toll on the single mother and her only daughter, filled with angst and turmoil. She hated to admit it, but once Susan was gone from the house, it would make everything seem a little bit easier. After peeking through the crack of the door, the woman noticed that nobody was inside.
“Mother!” A voice shouted from a room over. “I’m already awake.”
With a sigh, Catherine closed the door and headed to the kitchen, where, no-doubt, Susan would be making an early breakfast. She should have known in the first place, that her daughter would be up and about before she was, especially on today. A small smile was shared between the two before the younger one brought a frying pan to the table and scooped up an egg and placed it on an empty plate. She even pulled the chair out from under the table so that her mother could sit. After a few more eggs were made, and toast was toasted, the two finally took their seats on the respective ends of the table. It was a ritual they had almost every morning, as long as Susan was well enough for it. In fact, she always insisted on preparing her own meals while at home, even though her mother was fully capable, it was just like her to do almost everything by herself. Which brought on no surprise that she refused her mother’s attempts to bring the young woman to King’s Cross station to see her off to school.
“I’ll be fine. I’ve done it before. Plus, you wont have to deal with all the traffic in London.” Susan said, for the third time after being badgered again and again by her mother. With that she got up from the table and cleared everything that wasn’t being used by her mother, who was still finishing her meal. After a quick cleaning, Susan retreated into her room, hoping to find, if anything at all, she may have forgotten packing. The chest was already filled to the brim with an odd assortment of goods, yet the girl still managed to stuff a few more books in between a few more cracks. Once she was satisfied, and her satchel (which she would bring with her on the train) was filled with her robe, wand and a few more, personal belongings. With one last final check, she threw the bag over her shoulder and heaved the chest down the hallway, and through the front door. With a few final words with her mother, and a short hug, Susan went to the edge of the walkway. While pulling a small business card from her pocket, she took a seat on her luggage, waiting for the Knight bus to arrive. It didn’t take much longer for it to arrive, the young woman jumped to attention as it zoomed around the corner of the street (almost tipping over as it did). It unbelievably came to a complete stop, the tires screeching to a halt, but not leaving a single mark on the road. “You coming, lass?” Said the Irishman who jumped out of the bus, already starting to pull on the handles of the chest. She gave the man a short glare, to which he returned, before they both stepped into the bus, the man tugging the chest in tow.
When they finally arrived at King’s Cross, many of the passengers left, which was to be expected since half of them were already in their school robes. It was rather unfortunate that they couldn’t have been dropped off on the platform where the Hogwarts Express was; instead they would still have to run through the threshold. That meant that the group of wizards and wizards, would stick out like a sore thumb in the few minutes it took for them to stroll through the station. It was actually a pet peeve of Susan’s to see wizarding folk out and about in the muggle world; mostly because it brought along quite a lot of stares, which was never a good thing. She got off the bus and collected her belongings, while rummaged through her bag in order to occupy herself while everyone else disappeared into the station. Once she knew that she could pass by the crowds without a stare, Susan collected a trolley and heaved her chest onto it before heading for Platform 9¾.
It was packed with people, just like it always was during this time of year. Which made Susan feel a bit uneasy; she told herself that it was just nerves of being back to school. Without a second thought, Susan trudged on through the hordes of people. After politely waiting for a small group of second years to end their chat and make their way onto the train. She pushed through and piled her chest along with all the others before boarding the train. Turning her head before she entered, out of the corner of her eye Susan spotted something she was hoping to never see again. Her father, stepmother and stepbrother were on the platform as well. A shiver went down her spine, along with the urge to hex something. They seemed so happy, so vibrant as if their summer was filled with sunshine and rainbows. It was odd how they were all together, the only time Susan had either parent go with her to the platform was on her first year. Why did they go through such a sudden change? It was almost as if they were mocking her, as if to say: “Look, we’re all good and dandy, living together in harmony”. Her hand tightened on the chest, her knuckles going white from clenching on the guardrail so tightly. Another student, who must have been tired of waiting for Susan to get a move on, rolled his eyes and prodded her with his fat finger.
“ Oi, get a move on, would you?” He said, with a sharp tone. It was apparent that he wasn’t too happy about waking up early to catch a train. Susan broke her gaze with the happy family and stuttered out an apology before picking up her feet again. Since most of the passengers of the train were still outside, most of the compartments were empty; of course there were a few exceptions. Most of the students already seated were dozing off, working on saving enough energy to survive their first night back at school. As Susan walked down the train, she checked every compartment, hoping to find a seat close enough to spy on her father and not to be noticed, her ears picked up the sound of someone crying. And with that, she stopped and took to the nearest compartment, so not to get involved. The one who was crying still had a high-pitched voice, so that either meant that the person was a first year who was upset about leaving home, or a girl was dealing with a breakup… Or something. Susan gripped the cushioning of the seat, mostly to relieve some stress. Her eyes crossed over to the window, hoping to spy on… spot her stepfather before he left for work. A few thoughts popped into the girl’s head.
They must be planning something, why else would they be together? It must have something to do with their little cult!
She was just being paranoid. That thought came to mind once she realized the she was practically pressing her face against the compartment window. Pulling back, and trying to regain some composure, she noticed that whoever was crying had finally stopped. With a silent sigh of relief, Susan reached into her carry-on bag, pulling out a leather-bound book and a pencil. She flipped through the book stopping on a crisp page; tapping on it with the tip of her thumb, she wondered what she could do to keep herself occupied for the long journey back to Hogwarts.
✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖ W h e n - t h e - s u n - s h i n e s - t h r o u g h - t h e - r a i n ,
L e t - i t - b e - k n o w n - t h a t - y o u - a r e - t o - b l a m e ,
T h r o u g h - a l l - y o u r - f a u l t s - a n d - m i s e r i e s ,
H e e d - t h e - c a l l - o f - C o n f o r m i t y
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Posted: Sat Jun 11, 2011 4:47 pm
   "Mother, I'm leaving." It was as much a command as a request, or polite reminder. As the head of the household, Lark always spoke with authority, even to his mother and elders. He wasn't disrespectful. He was kind to them, merely... stern. No matter who they were in relation to him, his father had managed to pass on at least one thing to him; the title, Head of the Avius Clan. Lark almost huffed at the name. What clan? His elderly grandparents, reserved mother, and huffy cousins? Not to mention his defiant uncle. Some clan. A tiny, measly little family all wrapped up in their wild stories about rainbow birds. Those stories wouldn't get them anywhere, and they'd lost the one other sane man in their ramshackle little gene pool, Larks father. The late Gryffin Avius had been a hard and just leader (although just as convinced as his brother and parents that there was still some massive clan hidden off somewhere waiting for the glorious return of the 'royal family') and Lark was determined to fill his shoes well. In many ways, he imitated his father. He didn't smile, if he could help it. He always spoke in a calm, even tone, and never raised his voice, even when he was angry. He was never biased, and did his best to excel in school as his father had wished. These days his mother, Sparrow Avius, behaved toward him much in the same manner which she had behaved towards his father. A quiet compliance and obedience. She didn't speak often, and when she did, it was usually 'Yes, sir.' He was fairly certain that most families didn't work that way, with mothers acting as obedient servants to their sons. In many ways it was strange, as if Lark had replaced his father entirely, and the idea of taking his fathers position in regards to his mother was not something he was planning on acting upon, marrying within his tiny clan or no. He'd sooner marry one of those snobby twin cousins of his, Robin and Raven. Of course, before his death, his father had assured him that there was a bride waiting for him in the main branch, less closely related and (hopefully) more tolerable. He merely nodded as his mother politely and respectfully wished him luck, stepping out with his trunk and into the daylight.
Lark didn't waste much time in getting to where he wanted to go. Hogwarts was, as with many of its students, a second home to him. There were many things precious to him there. As well as rather important.... people. People with whom much of his summer vacation had been occupied. Yes, a certain someone whom he'd found himself entangled with near the end of his last year. Not that this news had been made public. No, Lark preferred anonymity in all of his personal affairs, even as a child. No one needed to know what was going on with him. Even that one year, when he'd been younger.... he could still remember holing himself up in the bathroom and bawling, trying so hard to stifle his cries so that no one would hear him. but someone did anyway. Someone with a warm voice, a gentle touch.... understanding. If Lark were the smiley sort, the memory would make him do just that. But he wasn't the smiley sort. He remained stoic, merely raising his eyebrows at the gaggle of slytherins who awaited him once he stepped through the threshold.
Lark was neither the tallest nor the shortest student in slytherin, and he certainly wasn't the most good-looking. He wasn't an infamous quidditch player, nor did he even have the top grades in the school (although he was among them). But if nothing else, he was well-respected and well liked, particularly amongst his house. But Lark wasn't so closed-minded as to exclude other houses. Lark had friends everywhere. Even a gryffindor or two had become open to him. Why shouldn't they, after all?? Lark didn't have a history of deceit. He'd never made anyone cry, never pulled any nasty pranks on those he didn't like. Lark had been little more than an inspiring leader, and this year he'd been named Head Boy to show for it. Lark was a well-spoken, polite, calm, all-around good guy. Everyone liked him. Who wouldn't? There was absolutely nothing ill to be said of someone like Lark Avius. No one could complain, and if they did, they just looked like either ignorant fools or jealous jerks. Lark didn't smile, per se, but he certainly looked happy. His gaze was soft and he even chuckled a bit as some of his friends rushed excitedly to meet him on the platform.
"Lark! Good going, mate! We all knew you'd be head boy, but congratulations are still in order!"
"First chance we get, let's go down to Hogsmede for a drink!"
Lark pinched his eyebrowd together over his warm eyes and shook his head, waving a hand.
"Much as I'd like to, friends, my responsibilities mean I'll be kept busy. I won't have time to celebrate until after the first years are well and settled in, at least." This response was met with some muttered agreement, their enthusiasm obviously dulled. At this he allowed himself to smile, briefly, at them, trying to be reassuring. "Once things settle down though, sure. First round is on me." His companions perked up a bit, and within a few minutes their excitement resumed unimpeded, the group of slytherins making their way onto the train. Lark listened to his companions, making jokes and the like with them as they all moved about to find a compartment along the long aisle. Upon finding one, most of his friends sat down. However Lark, as well as one or two others, who were prefects, nodded their way out and went about shooing and shepherding the younger years, making sure everything went as it was supposed to. For a while Lark patrolled about with them, but eventually he assigned his prefects spots and areas to cover, and he himself went off to seek some quiet. The year was going to be a long and fruitful one, by the look of it. But he couldn't forget about his duty as Head Boy. He needed to honor that title. After slipping away, he strayed from noisy cabins full of students and found a quiet spot.
Here several of the cabins were apparently yet unoccupied. Choosing a particularly quiet one, he slid the door open and peeked in. Much to his surprise, he found a young woman there. She was the only one in the cabin, and not yet in her robes (leaving Lark at a loss as for how to identify her house... but he recalled seeing her around the school). She didn't appear to be waiting on or expecting anyone, which suggested that either she didn't have many friends, or that she preferred to be by herself. Either case meant that she had to be an introvert, at least to some degree. Presumably a bit sheepish, but that was a little bit much to assume. Clearing his throat lightly so as not to startle the girl if she hadn't noticed his presence already, he stepped in, speaking casually. Let's see her name was...."Susan, correct?" nodding politely to her, he lifted a hand. The other was pressed against the small of his back. Positioned this way, he looked rather as if he should have been in a top hat and some kind of dapper suit, rather in the fashion of old gentlemen. "I hope I'm not intruding. Would you mind if I joined you?" His eyes caught the pencil and notebook in her hands. Definitely not a gryffindor, then. And she wasn't one of his slytherins, he was certain. Either hufflepuff or ravenclaw. Although he didn't really smile, his gaze and tone were soft. He had a very deep voice that sort of rumbled in his chest when he spoke, but it sounded like a purr. He remained standing, thinking he'd look rather foolish if he asked to join her and then seated himself without waiting for her answer. Worst case, he'd sit somewhere else. In the meantime he ran a quick eye over the girl trying to place her house. If memory served him correctly, as it usually did, she was in..... Ravenclaw? Yes, that sounded right.
[[ooc - Somehow, this post ended up rather short. >_> Oh well. ]]
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Posted: Sat Jun 11, 2011 10:21 pm
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Susan was still contemplating on what she should be working on, but as the door to the compartment slowly creaked open, she titled her head upwards. Obviously, somebody had expected the compartment to be empty, since she was barely making a sound. She gulped, as silently as possible of course, lowering her gaze once again to her book. Hoping that whoever it was would simply shut the door, and walk off to annoy somebody else. It wasn’t that simple, it never was; there was a cough, a signal to gather her attention and a way (of trying) to appear less rude for barging in. There was certainly no way for Susan to counteract, without making herself appear rude in the process. She just watched as a young mans stepped into the compartment, glaring at him, wondering what he wanted.
“Susan, correct?”
She merely nodded her own head, acknowledging the young man’s presence. From the way he presented himself, the way he offered one hand, while hiding the other behind his back, his poise, stance and character screamed authority. Confidence. She probably could have detected this from the shiny “Head Boy” badge, which was proudly pinned down to his Slytherin Robes. A small shudder crossed her body. Slytherins and Gryffindors weren’t known for getting along. History had a trend of repeating itself, but Susan wasn’t your average Gryffindor, and she was sure that this man was different. He was the Head Boy, and he was Lark Avius, he wouldn’t do anything to tarnish himself. Although she didn’t know him on a first name basis, she had heard of him from other students, specifically from the troublemakers in Gryffindor. He had a reputation at Hogwarts, not a negative one- but he was known for a terribly clean run at the school. Popular, loved by the teachers- she was pretty sure that he rich too. She had always wondered how her classmates in the dormitory, never seemed to mention her monthly disappearances. If they did, she would say that she was at the library, or being tutored, anything that came to mind, seemed to do the trick.
"I hope I'm not intruding. Would you mind if I joined you?"
Susan’s eyes widened in fear as they darted from his face, to his hand and back up again. Why did he want to sit with her? Didn’t he have to do Head Boy stuff to do, helping the first years, bossing around the prefects? She was a Gryffindor to top it off! For once in her life, Susan wished that the whole Quidditch team were here to scare him off. Or… if she was just a bit more like a Gryffindor, a bit more daring, a bit more courageous. With a newfound drive, Susan nodded her head, perhaps a little bit too vigorously.
“Oh, n-no- it’s f-fine.” Stuttering a bit as she spoke, off to a great start as usual. She closed her book, placing it on top of her bag, but continued to flip the pencil between her fingers to keep them preoccupied, rather than shaking Lark’s hand. She could have easily had said “no, go away”, and been done with it. Not bothering to spend another minute with him in her presence. That would have been extremely, rude- not to mention suspicious. Or maybe, she could have said something about the person sitting a few seats back, who was crying. She was sure that Lark would be a good sport and complete his duties. The crying had stopped, which meant that everything must have been all right now. Perhaps somebody had tended to them already? Nonetheless, Susan would play that card when she needed to, for now she would play it safe. Keep calm, worry about anything later.
No- He wanted something they always did. He didn’t know, did he? It wasn’t possible, nobody knew. Nobody. They haven’t even spoken to each other before; they did share a few classes together in the past. This was probably the longest exchange of words between the two. But… She had missed a lot of classes over the past six years at school. For anyone who really thought about it, it was obvious. Wasn’t it? Wait! Perhaps the potions teacher let something slip? That was another possibility, that’s what she gets for trusting others… No, she was just jumping to conclusions, nothing more than that. Still… She looked down at her journal, before her eyes darted back to the young man standing before her.
“Is-there-something-you-wanted?” She asked in one quick breath before he could even take a seat. Susan coughed, clearing her throat, just like Lark had done only moments before. It was a bit sudden and strange to be asking a question like that, especially seeing as how he had managed to maintain such a casual and calm attitude. He wasn’t threatening at all, but the young woman’s nerves got the better of her. It wasn’t suspicious to ask- he didn’t know anything about her condition. There was absolutely nothing to worry about it. But… In a last ditch effort; Susan tried to divert the pressure of attention from herself to something… else. Looking out the window of the compartment Susan muttered a simple: “Oh?” In a fake, surprised tone of voice, giving one quick glance at Lark before continuing to focus on some foreign object in the distance.
✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃✖ W h e n - t h e - s u n - s h i n e s - t h r o u g h - t h e - r a i n ,
L e t - i t - b e - k n o w n - t h a t - y o u - a r e - t o - b l a m e ,
T h r o u g h - a l l - y o u r - f a u l t s - a n d - m i s e r i e s ,
H e e d - t h e - c a l l - o f - C o n f o r m i t y
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Posted: Mon Jul 25, 2011 10:10 am
For the moment, Lark watched how her eyes moved. From glaring at him down, to the book in her hands. Up again, to the badge on his chest. A light shudder at this. No, not a Ravenclaw. Ravenclaws didn't fear authority. Hufflepuff? Up to his face. He tried his best not to look intimidating. Down to his hand, which he still held out. She looked, suddenly, very nervous. Then she simply nodded. Was it because she was afraid to tell him otherwise??
“Oh, n-no- it’s f-fine.” Ah, a stutterer, eh? Lark hadn't ever had a conversation with the young woman before, so that tidbit was new to him. Was it a speech impediment, or a product of nervousness? At this point Lark lowered his hand. It was obvious by then that she wasn't too keen on touching him. That suited Lark just fine, he supposed. She glanced back and fourth between her book and him, looking almost like a child who needed to go to sleep, but had ingested a bit too much caffeine and was about to have a breakdown because of it. She was awfully nervous about something. Maybe she was a Hufflepuff.
“Is-there-something-you-wanted?” It all came out at once, rather like one long word rather than a sentence. Lark, who had just been about to move to sit, raised his eyebrows and paused in his slight movement. Ah, she was definitely worried about something. Was there guilt in her eyes? No, not really,but one thing was certain..... she was hiding something. Lark had absolutely no clues or leads as to exactly what that might be, but she was making all the moves of a bad liar. Unlike some, though, knowing this did not fill Lark with an uncontrollable curiosity to find out exactly what her secret was. Being the poor liar she was, Lark doubted that she could know anything too important... someone like her wouldn't likely be trusted with that kind of information. Whatever it was, it was likely something personal; something that wouldn't mean a lick to him, even though it obviously meant the world to her. Maybe it was some prank that had been pulled, or perhaps a secret trinket she was paranoid about having taken from her for whatever reason. Lark was simply sure that, whatever her secret, it was one that would be kept by a ridiculous teenaged girl. But there really wasn't much of a way for Lark to properly communicate his complete and total disinterest in said secret to this girl, now was there? So then, how to answer her question...
Lark had only paused for a moment, all of the previous information swimming through his head in mere instants. Was there something he wanted? Well, he could be perfectly honest with this one.
"From you? No." he stated bluntly, resuming his forward motion as he closed the door behind him and sat down. "I was only looking for a quiet place to sit for a short while; that's all." He finished, sitting down across from her and near to the window. Lark had taken notice of her sudden interest in something obscure in the distance.... although that little 'oh' sounded awfully.... well, fake. Lark spared himself a quick glance in that direction. Through his keen and quick powers of observation, he was able to determine rather quickly that no, there was absolutely nothing of interest to him out there. She was trying (rather poorly, he might add) to distract him. He kept his gaze averted for a few moments, however. If he went right back to putting his attention on her when she was so obviously uncomfortable, it would seem more like he was attacking her. So he left her to a few minutes of silence and respite. After he felt a sufficient amount of time had passed with Lark feigning interest in the nothing in the distance, he turned back to Susan. She was rather like a deer, all twitchy and high-strung. Was she a Hufflepuff?? Lark was no sorting hat, that was for sure. But he knew she wasn't a Slytherin....
"I don't mean to make you so uncomfortable. I understand that Slytherins have a poor reputation in regards to their relationships with their peers, but as acting Head Boy, I am a professional. I don't have anything devious in mind, here or at the school. So you don't need to be afraid of me." his tone was calm and gentle, much like a farmer might address a skittish foal who was trying to run away. He knew that words from the mouths of slytherins (who did indeed have a reputation as liars) might be less than comforting no matter what he said, but felt it better than leaving his intentions up to her imagination.
He adjusted himself in his seat, returning his gaze to look out the window. There was no scenery as of yet; they were still sitting in Kings Cross Station, with parents and students crowding and loading luggage here and there. It wasn't terribly interesting. Most of the faces were familiar.... much like Susan, even if he didn't know them personally, he knew of them. Especially sixth and seventh years, whom he'd been seeing in the halls since he was a first year himself. Ah, things had changed so much. Long gone was Lark Avius the first year; the scrawny, short boy with wild, fluffy hair that stuck up in every direction - a look worsened by his habit of changing his hair color to some different, bright, obscene shade every other day. He'd been such a nervous lad - almost like Susan was now. He stuttered when he spoke, kept his eyes on the ground, made himself sick with anxiety and stress... that child was long since gone. He'd been gone for a while, the definitive moment being that day when he'd been crying his heart out in the bathrooms a few days after receiving that letter... Lark liked how different he'd become. The Lark of now was a successful young man, one who could determine his goals and accomplish them. He was bold and determined. He almost pitied sheepish people like Susan, always jumping at their own shadows.
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