What a pretty bird!
Coding by Estelle Nyx
time: morning
outfit: x
word count: 668
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@Ruckus Weems |
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Flying had always been Novalie’s favorite subject - that was until it stopped involving actual flying and instead, had become about rules, safety measures, and all of the tedious matters one needed to be thinking about.
So naturally, by the end of her first year, the Ravenclaw had started skipping the lessons altogether, trying out her acrobatic skills on the broom by herself but surprisingly crashing more often than succeeding. She never stopped however. Progress may have been slow, but steady, and once Novalie set her mind to something, she was persistent enough to stick with it.
Which is to say, until something else caught her interest. And this happened quite a lot.
A squirrel spinning in circles playfully, a couple arguing loudly, or a sudden inspiration to catch strange-looking bugs and gift them to her friends (obviously, they were always delighted to receive them, which was evident by how they were hardly able to speak and were just staring at her. Especially when the bugs she gave them were unidentifiable and able to make funny sounds!).
Today, however, was the first Flying lesson of her second year, and Novalie felt thoroughly optimistic.
If it was anything like last year, the first classes had to include some kind of actual flying, right?
She turned to a classmate with a beaming smile, ready to engage with them in all her excitement, but was quickly interrupted by them informing her about todays subject being Broomcare.
Well, there goes that optimism!
"Broomcare? Oh my days...", she whispered disappointed.
Couldn't get more theoretical now, could it?
With an overemphasized eye roll and heavy sigh, the Metamorph raised her face to the sky and contemplated her course of action.
Was it too late to just, disappear? Would anyone notice if she .. somehow, quietly, left and taught herself something truly useful? If they were honest, who needed theory when they could just, like, literally do the thing?
Learning by experience, trial and error!
How would one know fire was hot, if you never touched it at least once?
In classic Novalie fashion, she was not going to be listening to someone drone on about broom bristles and polish and whatnot, she kept her green eyes focused on the sky even after the lesson had started, twisting a strand of red hair between her fingers while he brain pondered the really important matters, for example how she could manage to do a handstand on her broom at last.
Maybe she should practice on the ground first? Last time she’d tried it in the air, she ended up in the Hospital Wing with a sprained ankle and a broken finger - and a lecture from the one helping her, which, in all honesty, the Ravenclaw didn't want to experience again.
New ideas on how to achieve her goal swept into her mind, when suddenly-
Her eyes grew wide at the sight of a perfectly ordinary absolutely magnificent dove landing on a nearby tree.
What a pretty bird!
The girl noticed right away that around it's beak, there were tiny feathers shaped like a little heart. Or, no .. rather waterdrops?
In any case, wasn't that the cutest thing ever?! It was so magical!
And with that, all of Novalie's plans of becoming an acrobatic flying prodigy right this morning by herself vanished, a new mission taking their place: befriend the bird and make it her beloved pet. Maybe she could make it talk.
Careful not to draw attention, she scanned the group around her.. No one seemed to notice her shifting away on tiptoes.
That was good, she didn't need a snitch ruining her moment now. So, like a stealthy ninja (or so she imagined), the redhead snuck behind the group and made her way toward the tree, beginning to climb it from the far side - just in case the professor turned around.
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What a pretty bird!
interacting: @Novalie Moon
Ruckus finished his lecture on a broomcare. He was still working off the previous flying professor's notes. This was no offense to the older man, but Felix Lin was more meticulous and serene than Ruckus could ever be. He was slowly realizing that he would have to change the lesson plans to fit his teaching style. He told the second-year students to break into small groups and begin caring for their school brooms. (He had purposely made the school's collections of old brooms look more worse for wear than they usually did in preparation for today's lesson.)
As he started to hand out the assorted tools, clippers, sandpaper, and the like, he got a prickling feeling on the back of his neck: Was someone walking behind him? He did a quick turn of his head and saw a small reddish figure traipsing toward the forest.
Instantly he knew, Novalie Moon. Miss Moon was apt to wander, at least spiritually, during lessons. He remembered the young Ravenclaw from the end of last school year. He had made a mental note to brainstorm how best to approach her wandering at the start of this school year. And like many of Ruckus's mental notes, it was probably in a heap of treasured trash or a pile of trashed treasure somewhere deep in the cobweb corners of his mind.
Ruckus figured he probably had a lot in common with Miss Moon, but in his case, he didn't have the structured school environment to daydream in. He was homeschooled—the word homeschool here is doing a lot of heavy lifting—and he was able to study in a way that fit his fancies, as fleeting as they may be. It's possible he could adapt the things he learned for a formal learning environment …
Oh, Miss Moon was now climbing a tree. Oh dear, going from spiritually wandering to physically wandering was quite the escalation.
Noting that the rest of the students were studiously varnishing handles or sanding down stray twigs, Ruckus excused himself and ducked into the trees. Using his own broom, he quietly hovered up to the precarious height the redhead now found herself.
"Miss Moon, may I ask what in particular is so special about this tree?"
“This is the dialectic—there is a very short distance between high art and trash, and trash that contains an element of craziness is by this very quality nearer to art.” - Douglas Sirk
also Della Barfield | Quentin Gagné
What a pretty bird!
NOVALIE MOON! ✩
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Within seconds, Novalie had scaled a remarkable height. It could be viewed as impressive just how quickly and easily she did it without using magic - though anyone who knew her wouldn’t have been surprised. The Ravenclaw was quite the climber, having spent most of her time at Hogwarts on the grounds with her head stuck in treetops, collecting strange insects, oddly shaped leaves, or retrieving her broom after a spectacularly uncontrolled flying manoeuver. Completely focused on reaching the branch where the bird sat, she stretched out her arm to grasp it and lifted one foot to brace against the uneven tree bark when suddenly- 'Miss Moon, may I ask what in particular is so special about this tree?' “-Wah!” She hadn’t expected a deep voice beside her. Startled, Novalie lost her balance mid-climb and slipped - or, well, not entirely, as her hands might have let go, but her legs had clamped instinctively around the branch below, leaving her dangling upside down like a bat, her fiery red hair pointing toward the ground like an inverted flame. Her wide green eyes stared straight into the ones of the Flying Professor, who hovered calmly beside the tree on his own broom. Her shock lasted no longer than all of half a second before her face broke into a wide, cheeky grin. “Man, Mister Professor Weems, I didn’t hear you at all!” How had he even noticed she was missing? How had he been so sneaky that she hadn’t heard him approach? And were his wrinkles always that deep? They kind of reminded her of the Grand Candyon she'd seen on a documentary once ... Questions flooded the girl's mind - yet since he had asked first, she supposed she ought to answer first as well. Not that lying would change anything, she’d probably get a lecture about the importance of attending class, and if he turned out to be pissed, maybe even detention. Which was never that bad. So she decided to stick to the truth. “This particular tree is so very special because that bird over there is-” She twisted to point triumphantly toward her new future pet, only to freeze half-motion. It wasn't there anymore. Confused and still hanging upside down, her face started to redden the slightest as the blood rushed to it. Not minding it, Novalie scanned the area around, before coming the the obvious conclusion. “Aw, man!”, she groaned in disappointment, “It flew away!” With a sigh, the Ravenclaw looked back at her professor. “This is, like, literally your fault. But that’s okay. I bet it’ll come back. It probably has its nest here somewhere. I mean, like -” She reached up to grab the branch she was dangling from, needing several attempts before her hands finally found a firm grip. “Ah! Yes, if it has its babies somewhere up this tree, I can just sit and wait by it. And then I can catch it and make it my pet. Caviar will be so happy to have a new friend! Last time, you know, he ate the centipede I bought back to the dorm for him to befriend! Caviar really doesn't play around when it comes to eating.” With considerable effort, she hoisted herself upright until she sat securely on the branch, still beaming and now looking at the Professor as though he were the one who needed to explain his actions. “But what brings you here?”, she asked naturally, tilting her head, “Don’t you, like, have a class to teach or something? I'm really busy.” |
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X | SECOND YEAR | RAVENCLAW
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