7 May 2021, 22:44
Bowtie
The blond Slytherin climbed the stone steps leading to the Owlery two at a time. A parcel addressed to him had arrived that morning, he'd been told. Due to a series of incidents in the past year that had scarred him for good in regard to mail, Gerald now was particularly mindful when it came to handling his packages.
First, there had been the Christmas episode. A small, harmless-looking brown package had been plopped on his porridge on Christmas morning and, since everybody else at the table was opening their gifts, Gerald made the mistake to follow suit. It was a pair of socks that he found inside, green and wooly and thick, an attempt at a snake–which he thought resembled a happy caterpillar–printed on both. The socks had been knitted by his grandmother and, although he appreciated the gesture, he nearly knocked his plate over in the hurry of trying to hide them from his housemates' view. Then, just the previous week, he had received another parcel and because apparently you do make the same mistakes twice, he'd opened it over breakfast, only to retrieve a bottle of lotion for spots. 'Just in case, now that you are a teenager,' had been the note attached. Whatever his mother had been thinking, he truly did not know. Thankfully, the wizard-borns sitting around him had looked none the wiser. He would have sworn he'd glimpsed a muggle-born stifling a giggle a few seats away, though, but perhaps that was just his paranoid nature adding fuel to his embarrassment.
In summary, Gerald now applied a zero witness policy while opening mail.
Inside the Owlery, the grey family owl awaited him on a window sill, guarding a small cardboard box. Gerald reached for it swiftly, untying the lace that held the lids shut. Inside, a piece of paper read: 'A little something for the Ball. You'll be turning heads with this. Dad'. The little something in question, he discovered, was a strangely shaped strip of black cloth. Confused as though what it was meant to be, he laid it on the sill before him.
Possibilities of how one might wear the cloth flashing through his mind–as a bracelet? around the ankle? pocket square?–, he absentmindedly pulled his father's letter out of the owl's beak, keeping it from nibbling the parchment further. As he did so, he noticed another message on the back of the paper. 'Since your mother tells me you won't know: it's a bowtie, Gerald.'
"A bowtie," he muttered. "And how exactly do you put this on, uh?"
Tentatively, he hung it around his neck, tips of the strip coming to rest on his chest. After a few minutes of fumbling, a sad ribbon-like tie was all he had managed. Dropping his arms in defeat, he turned to the owl, who hooted and started to ruffle its feathers, covering its head with a wing.
"Do I really look that ridiculous?" he asked the bird, moving over to check his reflection on the window pane.
@Opeila Winters
Gerald T. Fawkes
21 May 2021, 21:48
Bowtie
@Gerald Fawkes
Opeila didn't really have a particular reason to come to the owlery anymore. There was no one left who would send a letter to her. Her grandmother and mother dead, her father on the run, her new family not caring enough to make that effort. The Slytherin had almost managed to quit all sort of unhealthy behavior, but recently she had started to go to the owlery more often to stare into the distance for a while, patiently waiting for a letter that would never come.
And then she would go back down, with not the slightest feeling of frustration and come back another day. For some reason the pointless waiting brought her peace. Her father would probably grab her shoulders and shake her if he knew what she was doing. He would tell her not to waste her own life waiting for him. And Lady Margary would tell her that if she needed this waiting so badly, she should at least fill the time with something useful.
The thought made Opeila smile a little when she went up the stairs, her cat following her. The Slytherin could take him with her again without being worried. She loved her cat, but Loras had his phases. Only recently his bad behavior phase had stopped again and she could even bring him into the library at times. That was progress!
He also knew better than to provoke the owls by now. After it got him a bleeding nose twice, he had learned his lesson and the scratches healed.
Normally the owlery was empty when Opeila arrived. When she sat here, some students came up to send letters and left again, but she had only entered an empty owlery so far. But not today. When Opeila reached the top of the stairs, she could hear a voice. "...Do I really look that ridiculous?" The second year hesitated when she looked at the back of the blond boy who stood in front of a window. In the panel she could see his reflection and... was there something hanging around his neck? She should signalize him that he had company, but he would probably be embarassed. For one he was either talking to himself or to an owl and obviously about something he felt uncomfortable about.
She cleared her throat. "Um... Hi.", she greeted him. God, Opeila did really not know what to say to him in this situation. "Is everything alright?" Wow, Opeila. Those conversation skills needed improvement... To her own shock, she could almost hear Elora Winter's voice in her head now, scolding her.
I am so sorry for the wait!
