Closed How To Not Be Quicker pv accy

─────𝕽acing through the winding halls of Hogwarts, the redhead let out a playful and triumphant whoop, as her voice echoed across the halls, mostly empty as most students were either in class, out enjoying the day, or moving between classes on floors other than the one she found herself now sprinting down.
The crisp, chill winter air sneaked through the ancient stones, frost drawing intricate lines across the windows, cool mist biting at anyone unlucky enough to be under-dressed, but to her, it might as well have been a warm spring morning, her long fiery hair streaming behind her like a wild banner.

Sure it was likely not exactly the safest thing to be doing, Was it reckless? Absolutely.
sprinting around inside the castle the way she was.
But so many had long since stopped trying to tame her habit of sprinting through the halls like a madwoman, besides the risk of detention for tardiness was far more pressing than a stern talking-to for running indoors.
She figured, in her own logic, that as long as she hadn’t actually collided with anyone—yet—it was fine, and she just hoped that her diligence in her studies would counteract any stern warnings she'd receive.

Her outfit only added to the absurdity of her wild dash, Accalia was wearing a pair of Gryffindor patterned biker shorts, and a sports bra, sure it wasn't exactly the most practical of gear, especially not in the middle of winter!
Still while most students were bundled up in thick robes, scarves, and mittens, Accalia’s perpetual warmth made such layers unbearable while inside, outside the most she'd rug up with was a grey sweater jacket.
Her skin radiated heat, her body a roaring engine fueled by her constant motion, she barely felt the chill that seeped through the castle, even as frost hung throughout the air like a delicate veil she was able to easily ignore it as her metabolism burned at a constant enough heat that she stayed pleasantly warm even in the midst of this freezing mountain castle.

She rounded another corner, her shoes skidding slightly on the smooth cobblestone floor, wearing a look of absolute joy upon her face as she continued to sprint, getting further lost, she'd entirely forgotten what class exactly she was late for this time, but it didn't really matter all that much, she would sprint from class to class as she knew she'd stumble into the right room eventually, she was just crossing off charms and was about to head to HoM, or maybe.... she thought when rounding the next corner, she noticed a brunette girl in front of her path, seemingly in thought as she drummed her fingers over a book, locking eyes with her at the last second Accalia swerved trying to avoid her, reflexes sharp enough to do so without collision, as she moved forward though she noticed her foot catching on something as she passed, the girls backpack.

“Whoa—!”

Letting out a surprised and startled yelp, Accalia felt her footing grow unsteady as the bag snagged at her ankle, sending the redhead airborne, legs heading over head, arms flailing in a desperate attempt to fight gravity off... Gravity won, and she crashed to the ground in an unceremonious heap.

Books, quills, and shards of shattered ink bottles exploded outward in a chaotic mess, scattering across the corridor, a particularly haughty portrait of a nobleman now drenched in black ink glared down at the spectacle, muttering something about "ruffian behavior" under his breath.

Dazed for a few moments as she came to terms with her almighty crash, Accalia groaned, lying flat on her back as she stared down between her legs at the ceiling, for a moment, she didn’t move, letting the sting of fresh scrapes sink in.
The cool stone beneath her burned against her skin, but it was nothing compared to the embarrassment starting to bubble up. With a wince, she pushed herself upright, brushing at the red marks forming on her elbows and knees, skin stinging where red welts of new grazes began to form, wincing as they stung, still she saw the mess she had created with her mad dash.

“Oh no, no, no,” she muttered, surveying the carnage she’d caused, her gaze drifted over to the brunette who also seemed to be wearing some of the ink.
“I’m so, so sorry!” Accalia blurted, scrambling to her feet. Her hands shot up, palms out, as if to ward off an oncoming scolding. “I didn’t see—well, I saw you, but not the bag—and then, whoosh, bang, bam! then I think I flew for a bit, and then ouchies..." she described giving wild hand gestures as though to simulate what they'd both just encountered, then as though remembering she added concerned "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you at all did I?”

Still, Accalia didn't quite wait for an answer, whipping out her wand, casting reparo on the shattered glass that had been scattered across the hall, the bottles reassembling themselves with a faint clinking sound, she then darted around, scooping up the books and quills, a particularly battered tome catching her eye, it's spine barely held together.
"Reparo" she repeated casting again, then smoothing her hand over the cover as the damage disappeared, giving it to the girl with an apologetic grin.

The portrait above them gave an indignant huff, his scowl deepening as ink continued to drip down his painted features, Accalia glanced up and winced. “Sorry, to you too sir.” she mumbled before turning her wand toward him. She hesitated, then grinned as an idea struck.

She decided to try pulling the ink from the painting using the sauce summoning spell, by her logic ink could be used in cooking, such as in the case of squid ink pasta, and could be used as a sauce by its own merit, especially again with squid ink, so the ink used for writing must not be that much different, to her joy her unorthodox approach seemed to bend the spell to her will as the ink pulled itself from the painting and filled up the jar once again.

The portrait narrowed his eyes but didn’t complain further, apparently placated. Accalia turned back to the girl, brushing her hands on her shorts as if dusting off invisible dirt.

“There!” she said brightly. “Good as new... Mostly... Are you okay? I truly am sorry about crashing into your backpack. Accalia Avalon, resident hall sprinter and occasional running disaster of mass proportions” she laughed as she introduced herself to the wide eyed girl.

✦ ❄︎ ☽◈☾ ☽◈☾ ❄︎ ✦
| Word Count: 1095 | Interacting with: @Brookline Quinn |
— Strength forged in tradition, beauty born of wilds —

𝒥ideally, when that little firstie with the impressive red curls, slipped and made ink fly, Brookline thought back to when she was a little first year, remembering when she was scared of being the reckless cause of a few or more older years' anger. Even second years, last year, made her rock with butterflies twittering round in her stomach.

Brookline gasped though when the younger slipped and fell over her satchel. She put it on the ground. She thought it was her fault the redhead slip and fall, skinning her knees and probably elbows. The Ravenclaw must have been in a stupor, thinking of the mess she caused just because she put a bag on the ground. But once the girl groaned, her eyes lit up at seeing the Gryffindor girl on the ground, with welts on elbows and knees. The girl was only clothed in a sports bra and a pair of shorts. Oof, it must be cold.

“Oh dear!’ Brookline raced over to the younger year, but she had already stood up, rambling with frantic arm and hand gestures. If circumstances were different then Brookline would of probably chuckled but she fought the urge, the urge of a twitching smile.

“Are you okay? I didn't hurt you at all did I?” Concerned, the girl with red curls added. Brookline shook her head gently and let out a little chuckle. “No, I'm all right, but are yo-” She didn’t get to finish her sentence when the girl started “reparo”ing everything broken in sight. Mouth wide open, the Welsh pure-blood watched as the girl fixed everything in sight. This made Brookline wonder I'd the first year was even a first year. So good, and so experienced probably meant she would be a dang good witch when she was older.

When the girl handed her the now-fixed book, Brookline’s mouth shut back together with a sickly clink as she tried to lessen her surprise and astonishment. And when she heard a annoyed huff, did Brookline realize there was a painting drenched with ink. The nobleman did make Brookline look at herself. Her plaid and white top was ruined. Well... she could fix them with a spell, but ink had stained them and she didn’t notice it til now.

Finally, out of her surprised stupor, Brookline went to whip out her wand out of her sleeve to clean the nobleman’s frame, when she saw the girl use the sauce summoning spell to slink the ink off the painting and back into the ink well. Should she do that with her sweater as well? Is there any better spell though? Oh there is a cleaning spell!

“Scourgify!” Pointing her chestnut wand at her sweater and trailing the wand in a shape of a ‘S’, the ink washed away, making her sweater look absolutely brand-new again. Once she finished, Brookline glanced up at the quick girl with red bouncy curls, and the girl was speaking, “Good as new... Mostly... Are you okay? I truly am sorry about crashing into your backpack. Accalia Avalon, resident hall sprinter and occasional running disaster of mass proportions.”

“Oh never mind little old me! Are you hurt? You’re the one who slid on the floor! Do they sting?” The overconcered Ravenclaw took a step closer to the girl, rambling off questions, probably confusing the poor girl. She picked up her bag, with all the items inside fixed and not smashed, “And its okay. I’ve endured worst. I’ve fell off a broom before! But I must thank you for fixing all my things! You have a charm with magic, Accalia, I just know you’ll be a awesome witch.” Brookline smiled.

Then she realized she hadn’t introduced herself. “Oh! I’m Brookline Quinn. Nice to meet you, but are you sure you’re okay??” The older girl’s friendly smile disappeared and returned with a little concerned frown.

interacting with @Accalia Avalon and awesome writing! I love it and your code and banner; beautiful!