Errand If I was a Flag... PV Aaron
Errands. Suddenly there were more of them, providing that sort of distraction Opeila wanted so badly. Life had to go on, even if it was this... this strange life that so much didn't feel like... well, hers. The Slytherin knew exactly what her father would say if he was there to hear her thoughts. Change it, love it or leave it. Opeila couldn't change it. What she went through was nothing she had chosen for herself. Her mother's mistakes. And Opeila had hated her and blamed her so long, laying awake in her bed, silent angry tears streaming down her face, while she wispered everything she wanted to tell her.@Aaron Jones1st October
Opeila needed to move on, or she would break under it.
That of course didn't just happen, but well, that was what the errands were great for. And school in general. The only thing that was still deep down on the bottom of her trunk, was her finnish vocabulary and books. She had not touched them once since their return to Hogwarts and she had avoided Airlia as well. Not that the Hufflepuff was bad company, but here she just represented all the memories Opeila so badly wanted to push away.
Sometime in the afternoon, after her classes, Opeila went up to the first floor to the Muggle Studies Classroom. The Slytherin had never been in this classroom, she didn't really know Professor Galim either. In summer camp, before the terrifying events on their last day, Opeila had participated in the trip to London, which Professor Galim had organized. On that day, the woman made a good impression on Opeila, the little girl had very much enjoyed it, especially the trip to the museum. Opeila had the feeling that she would like muggle studies when she could finally take it next year.
Multiple long tables were placed through the classroom- Opeila strongly assumed that those were only there for the errands, or did muggle studies lessons happen on grouptables? A few students were already there, chatting and creating their flags. All unfamiliar faces to Opeila. A little unsure, she made her way over to an empty table and took one of the papers.
She stared at the rectangular square that they were supposed to draw their flags into. Something that represented her. Something that she felt connected to. What represented her though? The only thing coming to her mind was a big black hole, that made her want to giggle. It was more sad than funny but... Maybe it was Opeila's subconscious that made sad and funny blur together. Or maybe she was actually going crazy, who knew.
She took a pencil and let it spin between her fingers. Hell, she had no idea what to do with this paper. Opeila had never been an artist, if she had to, she could be a decent writer, but that was it. She was an acoustical artist, not a visible one. Her talent layed within the strings of the violin that was in it's case, carefully placed between her clothes, probably near her finnish vocabulary. The violin had been a present of her mother. Nothing she could bear again so soon.
WC: 529 Words
~Opeila Winters~
2nd Year | Slytherin | P.U.R.E. Secretary | Duellist
2nd Year | Slytherin | P.U.R.E. Secretary | Duellist