War And Peace
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She trailed a finger along the spines of the books as she walked at a slow pace, looking around, watching people. She had already picked up a book of potions that she had no intention of reading right now. She wasn't really in a reading mood. She remembered her father's french poetry book she read over and over again, sitting neatly in her trunk back at her dorm. "C'est drôle," it's funny she murmured, almost to herself.
For Rowan, reading wasn't really a hobby. She enjoyed it, of course, but it was more something to kill the time rather than something she would choose to spare time for. To think about it, Rowan didn't really have any hobbies at all. She liked watching people, observing small things about them they didn't necessarily want to be noticed. But that's hardly a hobby, is it ?
Maybe I'm just boring like that, Rowan shrugged.
Lost in thought, she turned a corner randomly and stopped.
A boy was sat at a small table next to the window. He was reading, which wasn't particularly interesting. What was interesting was the title on the book: War and Peace.
Rowan's eye twitched. Oh, she loathed that book !
She'd read it last year, sneaked it from another donation box when sister Agnes wasn't looking. It took her two months to finish it. Two months of her life she would never get back !
She still got annoyed thinking about the ending. All that build-up and for what?
She'd finished it, closed the cover, and thought: That's it? That's what everyone talks about?
Rowan walked over and sat down across from him, setting her own book on the table.
"I read that not long ago." She said, her voice not loud nor quiet either.
She leaned forward, arms crossed on the wood, her green eyes fixed on him.
"Two months of my life wasted on that thing. Too many characters, and the ending made me want to throw it at a wall. So tell me, do you actually like it, or are you just trying to look smart?"
𝕽𝖔𝖜𝖆𝖓 𝖁𝖊𝖝𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖞
Stamina: 4 |Evasion: 8 |Strength: 3 |Wisdom: 8 |ArcPower: 6 |Accuracy: 6
Ability: cat's grace
War And Peace
The library in Hogwarts stretched higher than Artie's eye could see, as he gazed over the beautiful books with cracked spines and at the many magical titles that lay in front of him, he shook his head. He was excited, sure, but this world was so new. Nothing like he had ever seen before, instead he pulled out a reliable book.
He sat down at one of the tables, setting War and Peace down in front of him, the spine cracking as he opened it, with the smell of books that he loved ever so much. It was an amazing book, full of complex stories. The author suggests many different things throughout the story of war, and heartbreak, and pulic glory. But the truest message of all was that true happiness can only come from ones inner peace, their humility, and their connenctions with others. Not from fame or power.
The strains of the polonaise, which had continued for a considerable time, had begun to sound like a sad reminiscence to Natasha’s ears. She wanted to cry. Peronskaya had left them. The count was at the other end of the room. She and the countess and Sonya were standing by themselves as in the depths of a forest amid that crowd of strangers---
He was pulld from his thoughts at the voice of another, a girl who now sat across from him. He looked up to her, his curls bouncing quite madly as he did so. He raised an eyebrow as she spoke, smiling at learning that she had read it as well, but his smile slowly disappeared.
"Two months of my life wasted on that thing. Too many characters, and the ending made me want to throw it at a wall. So tell me, do you actually like it, or are you just trying to look smart?"
He scoffed, looking her up and down for a moment. She couldn't be serious, could she? He shook his head, dog-earing the page before closing the book.
"How dare you?" He pauses, his hands shaking as he grips his book, "how dare you! This is one of the best books ever written! The ending you say is bad is not so, it tells the story of how the actions of oridnary people can change history, and that you need not be some great and powerful leader! If you couldn't understand that you don't have a single clue about good literature!"
He snapped, pulling the book into his arms and hugging it tightly, as if it might be stolen from him by this rude girl that stood before himself.
@Rowan Vexeley
Word count:438
~ a life ain't a life till you live it ~
War And Peace
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He thinks I'm going to take it from him. Or make fun of him for caring.
He was wrong, yes Rowan was mostly indifferent about people's feelings and tended to go overboard with her jokes and sarcasm. But she didn't enjoy being cruel to people for caring or liking stuff. That was just unnecessary and served no other purpose than hurting the other party. Sure, Rowan didn't mind hurting people's feelings but only if it came with a reward and a benefit to her. Other than that, what was the point ?
"How dare you! This is one of the best books ever written!"
Rowan let out a soft chuckle. Not a mean one. One of the best books ever written. Right.
"Because nothing says "masterpiece" like a thousand pages of Russian nobles being miserable and Tolstoy explaining his own themes like he's writing to a bunch of toddlers." She pointed a finger to the boy's book as she spoke.
"I mean," Rowan started, her voice low so other people in the library wouldn't hear. "He spends a thousand pages trying to prove that history isn't shaped by great individuals, but by countless small forces and small individulas. That Napoleon wasn't really playing a chess game as he thought but was actually just another piece on a board."
She leaned back on her chair slightly, processing what to say next. She was the only one who read War and Peace back at the church and had so many opinions she wanted to discuss that it was a bit hard for her to disguise how excited she was to talk about it with someone, with anyone !
"Which is fine. Interesting, even. But then he writes an epilogue that spends fifty pages explaining that argument. Directly. To the reader. As if we're too stupid to have figured it out ourselves."
Rowan's words trailed so smoothly like she was reciting an essay she learned by heart. But those were only thoughts and opinions she waited so long to share. Rowan was grinning now.
"He doesn't trust his own story to do the work. That's the real problem. He's so afraid we'll miss the point that he stops being a writer and starts being a lecturer. And a lecturer who thinks you're an idiot."
Rowan stared at him, her smile never leaving her face. She couldn't decide what she was feeling while she was talking about her opinions so enthusiastically. She wasn't used to this and if felt a little bit weird and strange...to be excited about something like this. To be excited about anything at all.
𝕽𝖔𝖜𝖆𝖓 𝖁𝖊𝖝𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖞
Stamina: 4 |Evasion: 8 |Strength: 3 |Wisdom: 8 |ArcPower: 6 |Accuracy: 6
Ability: cat's grace
War And Peace
Artie paused, gazing over to the girl who sat in front of him, his fingers trembling slightly as he continued to hold the book close to his body. He had to admit, the girl in front of him knew her stuff. Even if he didn't agree with the opinions that she proposed, he couldn't dismiss to himself that she was more well-versed in literature than many of the other children he had met in his time.
"I don't ever read the epilogue," he began, pausing slightly to think over what it was that he wanted to say next. "Not when it is the author directly talking, that is. It's different when it is one of the characters giving their final farewell, telling the stories of what happened before them. I don't like Tolstoy's epilogue. But that doesn't mean that you can just go and insult the book as a whole!"
He huffed, leaning back in his seat and gripping the leather-bound book closer to his body. This girl hadn't taken it yet, but when you become teased your whole life, it is hard to discern if someone is going to bully you, or just wants to have a meaningful conversation with you.
He frowned, his fingers trailing up and down the book spine before he looked over to Rowan, grimacing. "I'm sorry that I said you don't have a single clue about good literature. I just," he began to trail off before refocusing his thoughts and looking back ahead to Rowan, "I believe that Tolstoy tells an amazing story, and when people say he doesn't, it's like my comfort has been ripped away from me." He mumbles the last few words, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes.
He reached his hand up, wiping the tears from his eyes. He wouldn't let someone at this school see him cry; he couldn't. He would never be able to live it down. The poor, helpless first-year who cries because somebody has a different opinion from him. It would be pathetic. No. It is pathetic. "Ignore me, I'm not crying, you're crying." He sniffled, using his robes to dab at his eyes, forcing himself to stop.
"God, this is so embarrassing." He groaned, wiping his face until his cheeks turned bright red and the sleeve of his robe was damp. "You better not tell anyone about this. I don't want people to think I'm weird." He frowned.
@Rowan Vexeley
Word count: 405
~ a life ain't a life till you live it ~
War And Peace
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She just sat there, not knowing what to do with him. She knew that feeling. The one where something small becomes the only thing that makes sense. And when someone pokes at it, it's not about the thing anymore. It's about everything else.
He kept talking. Kept wiping his eyes. Kept saying it was embarrassing, pathetic, like he expected her to laugh. She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a small, folded handkerchief. Plain white with a little dark blue raven stitched poorly on the right side, it came with a letter from her mother upon knowing Rowan was a Ravenclaw. "even if you hate it." she wrote on her letter. Rowan did hate it, Ravenclaws were a stuck up bunch of loosers, her included.
She held the handkerchief out between two fingers. "Take it," she said quietly. "Before your sleeve gets any wetter." Minutes passed in silence, she tiltel her head to the side contemplating the crying mess the boy was making. He really loves that book. Like it's not just a book to him.
"I didn't say it's bad, I said I didn't like it. There's a difference." Her eyes drifted to the window for a second, then back to him."The whole thing. I read it and I kept waiting for something to click, and it never did."She paused, picking at a thread on her sleeve.
"It's the characters. Natasha for exemple, she's this bright, alive girl in the beginning. She makes mistakes, she's messy, she's real. And then by the end she's this dull housewife who's lost everything that made her interesting. Tolstoy punished her for wanting things...for being alive."
Her fingers picked at the thread harder. She never knew what to do with her hands when talking , it was kind of her thing. "I grew up in a place that punished girls for wanting things...for being alive. So maybe that's why I hated it...it just felt too real. The way it takes bright, messy people and makes them quiet." She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe that's not fair to the book but that's how I felt."
"You better not tell anyone about this. I don't want people to think I'm weird."
"You're not weird. You care about something. That's not weird. That's just..." She searched for the word. " Where I grew up, people didn't really care about things. Not like that."
She looked at him properly with a shrug. "And I'm not going to tell anyone. That's not my business." Rowan rarely kept promises, if she saw a benefit in breaking one, she would gladly. It didn't really mean anything to her. But, she thought, this boy gave her a good time discussing this book so maybe she could keep his secret after all.
𝕽𝖔𝖜𝖆𝖓 𝖁𝖊𝖝𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖞
Stamina: 4 |Evasion: 8 |Strength: 3 |Wisdom: 8 |ArcPower: 6 |Accuracy: 6
Ability: cat's grace