Under My Sleepless Wings pv zephyr

Zephyr was sitting in the far corner of the Study Room since the start of lunch. It was peaceful there. There were fewer people walking by. The smell of parchment and ink was everywhere, and the fire crackled faintly from the far wall. He had a pile of books spread out across the table. His handwriting wasn’t that great, but he was trying his best. There was so much homework already, and he didn’t want to fall behind. Some things, like basic spells, made sense to him, but others, like wand movement diagrams or the theory behind levitation charms, still made his head spin.

He rubbed his eyes and sighed, going to the next page of his Herbology essay. He’s been working on it for half an hour, trying to explain how to properly handle Bubotuber pus without sounding like he was copying straight from the book. “Why do they give us this much work in the first month?” He muttered under his breath. He was halfway through writing another sentence when he remembered the new quill, which, according to the label, was a self-inking quill, and it was supposed to make homework easier. He had not tried it yet; this is the perfect timing.

He unwrapped it carefully, “Let’s see what you can do.” At first, it worked fine. The tip glided smoothly across the parchment, the ink lines forming words without him having to dip it in an ink bottle. It was faster and cleaner. He grinned, pleased with the result. Maybe this thing was worth the extra Sickles, but then, the quill twitched. “Eh?” It twitched again, then suddenly shot forward, scribbling across his page on its own. “No, no... stop that!” He hissed at it as he tried to grab it. But the quill had a mind of its own now, scrawling the same word over and over: bubotuberbubotuberbubotuberbubotuberbubotuber—

“Hey!” Zephyr reached for it, but it zipped out of his hand entirely, hovering midair like a mad insect. The quill began spinning, flinging droplets of black ink in every direction. “Oh, brilliant,” He pushed his chair back as a blob of ink splattered across his open textbook. “Stop! You’re going to—” Before he could finish, the quill darted off the table and shot toward the walkway just as someone was passing by. “Watch out!” Now he was scrambling to his feet.

Too late. The quill smacked the floor near the girl’s shoes, splattering a dark blot of ink across the stone tiles. He hurried around the table, trying to scoop the rogue quill up before it took off again. His hands were already covered in ink. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean... It’s this stupid quill, it’s got a mind of its own—” He managed to pin it down against the floor with his palm. The quill wriggled for a few seconds, trying to fight him off before finally going limp, leaving one last streak of black across his hand.

He sighed as he stared at the mess. His parchment was ruined, and the floor was a disaster. Realising the girl was still there, he looked up at her, feeling his ears go red. “Uh… sorry about that. Didn’t think it would actually move on its own.”

@Brookline Quinn

ℬrookline exhaled, a exhausted and loud sigh, as she grabbed her bag to escape this terror of a Study Hall. She was fed up, and tired, and that freaking nightmare only made her scared that her father was going to show up here and yell at her or that her father was going to spend Christmas with her family, yet without her.

Then, it was really her fault.

The Welsh girl tried her best to get the heck out the Study Hall, hoping and wishing that never would happen to her, or that someone wouldn't choose to talk. She hated it when younger or, honestly any students came up to her, hoping for a interesting person to talk to, and New Brookline couldn't provide that. Gosh, she couldn't even laugh or smile without it being forced or fake. Because she was fake. Brookline really was a fake girl in the fake world.

And the universe only made it even harder as anything and everything she did, it laughed at her and hurled more things at her and then laughed again. Laughed so hard that Brookline thought the universe was finally done with her, and then it projected something else and she was done.

Done enough that Brookline didn't even care anymore. Her aching fingers was holding upon that fragile bit of pure hope that all this stupid, overwhelming, stressing stuff would halt and stop. And then.

One day, Brookline just let go, her whole being falling, and struggling down a huge dark chasm. Hair in her face, she hit rock-bottom, and the blinding light at the top, hope that she been holding on far too long, glittered away like a fairy.

The Ravenclaw tightened the satchel that was on her shoulder, and hurried. She wanted to get out. All the air, all the fibers, all the very cells in this Study Hall was suffocating her and she couldn't breathe. She wanted out. She wanted to sink in a hole, and rot and die. She wanted to be reborn and not born as Brookline Quinn again. She wanted to be at home with her family, all of her family and not have anyone yelling, and everyone acting as a family. Even her father. Everyone needed to shut their traps and listen to her speech about the whole world and how somepeople are literally making one suffocate and are pained to breathe freely. And how somepeople needed to stop making their daughter stop feeling it was her fault that they ran away to live in another place without her.

If she was even brave and courageous now to even go up to a crowd. And if her father ever heard that speech, he would try to get it out of her head, drive it away where he was only left with a obedient daughter. And that hurt, just thinking out it, Brookline thought as the door, the literal exit out of the stupid Study Hall was in sight and the door handle was only a few (ish) feet away.

Just then, something hit her tangled hair. Brookline twitched, and turned around, her face puzzled as she inspected her hair. Her fingers would feel that wetness and feel that stickiness on her palm. She smelt that chemically smell before she saw the ink. She gasped. Who had gotten ink in her hair?!

"Watch out!"

Her head whipped around fast at the sound of a anxious voice. At first, she thought it was a scared first year with a spell gone wrong, yet, instead she, herself was faced with a magic quill. A trembling hand grabbed her wand from her satchel, and once the quill fell to the floor with a smatter, with ink spattering just about everywhere. Right next to her shoes. Right next to her boots!!

A huge sigh would escape Brookline as the little wizard skittered over her with a nervous look on his face. The boy pinned the quill, his hands absolutely covered in midnight-dark ink. He started explaining himself, his ears growing red. The first year looked mortified, and Brookline could feel a bit of embrassment.

She wanted to snap. She wanted to snap so bad, but there was a little voice inside her, that was telling her to forgive this little guy. Brookline sighed again, and she grabbed her wand, dropping her satchel where there wasn't a stain on the cool, tiled floor. She turned to the red-earred boy, and exhaled gently, "No big deal, I remember when I was a disaster my first year. It was probably just as horrible or more, honestly. as yours." She laughed and shrugged.

"Scourgify!" Brookline pointed her wand to the inky floor, and drew her wand with a large 'S'. She casted the Scouring Charm to the blot in her hair, her shoes and the boy's hands, and the dark-as-midnight liquid disappeared without a trace, as nothing had even happened.

"Is that a self-inking quill?" The Welsh girl asked, peering down at the wizard's quill and knitted her eyebrows softly. Her eyes were flaming, as she explained herself. "My tip as part of the blue and the bronze, literally just do the homework. Firstly, first year homework isn't even that bad, second and third year homework only get worst... I also assume the years beyond get harder as well. Just use a regular quill, and if your hand gets tired, take a break. That's when you know when you need to take a break and read alone, lad."

Her voice was tired, and she was ready for the day to be over. Everything to be over. It was so irritating and exhausting to out and pretending to be social, to impersonate the girl she was before. The only snag...? She didn't know exactly how to do that.

Why couldn't I just avoid this? The young Quinn thought, her toes curling in her boots. Running a hair through her hair, she studied the boy; he had light skin, his short hair a light-fawn coloured and paired with emerald iries, reminding Brookline of Peter's eyes. A image of the half-blood boy slammed her right in the gut, and she could have cried.

A lukewarm smiled appeared on her face, despite the suffocating and feigning behind it. Brookline's blue eyes were dark and stormy as she cod her grin, and she introduced herself. "Anywaaay, I'm Brookline. Brookline Quinn, resident third-year Ravenclaw, and I'm pleased to meet you. Er, and you... you are?" She stuck out her palm, for a shake if the younger boy would allow it.

occ note:

Zephyr froze for a moment when the girl acted and casted the Scourgify spell. He watched as the ink completely disappeared in an instant, amazed that she fixed everything so easy and very fast. Magic is really impressive! He wanted to mumble a nervous thank you, but he forced himself to stay upright instead of flopping on the floor with embarrassment. “Uh… wow. Thanks!” Finally finding his voice which came out a bit shaky for the adrenaline rush of chasing the rogue quill and from being impressed. Looking down at his hands and the floor, it still amazed him that it didn't look like a mess anymore. “I should probably stick to regular quills from now on.” Adding that with an embarrassed laugh. “Y-yeah. Definitely lesson learned.”

The girl talked about the quill, homework, and taking breaks while noting her voice sounded tired. He only nodded to try to keep up with everything she was saying. "I just thought it will be faster and easier. But, uh… I get it now, regular quills are better if they don’t try to attack people.” He tried to joke but it came out more awkward. Still, he hoped it made her smile.

She looked at him as if sizing him up and he was nervous again. Her blue eyes seemed serious but her smile was still genuine. He was unsure if he should step back or stay put, but then she offered her hand. “Uh… right.” Quickly extending his own and laughed nervously when their hands met. “I’m Zephyr. Zephyr Deakin. First year Hufflepuff.” He tried to sound confident, but there was still a trace of embarrassment in his voice. “Nice to meet you, Brookline.” He squeezed her hand lightly, not wanting it to be awkward and then let it go after a second, realizing he probably held on too long.

When he looked at her again, he was more relaxed. “So… you come here a lot?” He was pointing toward the table and the quiet corner they were in. “I like this part of the Study Hall, fewer people, not noisy. At least until that quill decided to attack me.” He grinned at her, doing his best to keep their conversation casual, but deep inside, he was observing her. He glanced at the pile of books and parchment he abandoned earlier, they were now ink free thanks to her charm. “I owe you one, if you ever need help with anything, I’m around. I won’t make a mess of it, promise.” He smiled awkwardly, “I usually try to do my own thing. I hope I am not imposing and disturbing you or anything?"

@Brookline Quinn

ℬrookline sighed lengthy when the ink blot hit her head. She knew something was going to happen. Today, or tomorrow. It was as if Brookline had taken a unsuccessful batch of Felix Felicis, liquid luck.

Casting the Scouring Charm was obviously a great choice as the floors seemed polished, and as if nothing happened. As an added plus, the first year boy was frozen, his eyes following the floor, as if he was having a double take. Perhaps this gobsmacked bloke was a Muggleborn from good old London! At least the Ravenclaw’s prized boots and hair were free of ink. The current state of her outrageous hair was already depressing and exhausting, and if she hadn’t known that life-saving charm, she would have taken hours to comb and wash the ink out of her hair. Honestly, if there was a test or essay on her hair, Brookline would definitely get a dreadful T. As much Troll as they could get. And that’ll just make the Welsh girl feel even worst. Getting a T would literally kill her and she was already halfway lost to the perils and challenges of this eventful yet uneventful life.

The boy seemed amazed as he gazed up at Brookline in awe, and nodded, agreeing with her to stick with non-magical quills. Well, yeah. Everything doesn’t have to be all magic and unicorns! The Welsh girl thought yet kept her sarcasm to herself. She wouldn’t to scare off first years when they’ve done a harmless mistake, that Brookline probably had done a similar mistake when she was younger. Anyway, the faster this conversation goes, the faster she can get to her dorm! Merlin, how bad she wanted her alone time now.

“...I get it now, regular quills are better if they don’t try to attack people.”

Okay. Was this foolish boy trying to get on her nerves? Brookline’s eyebrows narrowed as she tried to calm herself down, her brain screaming warnings and near-death threats. She wasn’t going to let this first year get the best of her. Calm down... He’s only a harmless first year. It’s fine. Calm down... She breathed in and out, as “calm down” became a need, a mantra to repeat over and over again if she wanted to pass as human, or Old Brookline.

It was really hard to pass as the Welsh girl’s old self when that was so long ago. When the two sides of her were so different and there were people here at Hogwarts, who knew her as a happy and carefree first year. As someone who used to be this bold, and temerarious risk-taker, whom took perils and hazards as those little desserts, people probably begin to notice shift from that trouble-maker to this the more-or-less silence and isolation of Brookline, and the more sharp snaps. As if her brain were taking the words right from her chapped lips. And the Welsh Ravenclaw didn’t like when people notice that amendment and adjustment to her ways, her appearance, and her locations. She didn’t like when people would ask nagging questions and offer pity. For one, she hated pity, and for two, she didn’t quite fancy attention much anymore.

It was all a huge misunderstanding, and what she looked like she wanted to do was hundred percent different from she, inside, wanted to do. Yet, Brookline didn’t want people to know what she wanted. It would only add to others’ distress, add more unnecessary objects and items to their backpack on their shoulders, and they would have to an eye on her at all times.

Brookline did not want that. She didn’t want it at all! Okay, she wanted change, but not this kind of change. She wanted to disappear in a forest of rotting leaves, trees and creatures, and rot herself. Rot, rot, rot. Die, die, die. Rot. Rot and die.

Despite the long moment in her own head, Brookline realized it had been a little second since she’d spoke. She nodded to the first year boy, her lips opened, closed and opened again. “Yes. I suppose. I would say that attacking quills are dreadful. I wonder if a professor would knock points off for a self-inking quill. Wait, that’s only for quizzes....” Brookline gazed out into the distance as if she was thinking. As if she telling the boy not to take her for granted, she added, “I... I think.”

Brookline’s gaze then traveled to the younger boy, taking careful note of his appearance and face. Of course, she would not like to run into this first year again if she could help it! The young lad resembled a nervous rabbit hopping around in excitement and distress, and Brookline could have chuckled in delight. There were perks being a third year, to make firsties shake and tremble in anxiety, as restless as a domestic feline on steaming bricks. Perhaps she might deem even more fearful as a seventh year or sixth year.

When Brookline introduced herself, and held out her hand in greeting, the anxious first year took it and squeezed it, mostly likely his nerves acting up as he held on too long, presenting himself as well. “Nice to meet you as well, Zep... Zephyr,” The words unapologetically tumbled out the Welsh girl’s replicate of a genuine smile, like slick venom slipping out like a forked-tongue viper. “Bit of a tongue-twister of a name til you get it!” A little, forged chuckle came from Brookline, as she fiddled with the strap of her Enchanted Satchel, her wand was still in her dominant hand. Once realizing that, the chestnut wand was tucked safely in the hiding crook of her satchel.

Brookline’s slip of a grin she had faded and evaporated for a second as she gazed around in anxiety. She needed to get out soon. Perhaps she could make a quick excuse, and sneak out while she could. Or, just maybe, she could fib to the kid, stating that class started soon, yet she just didn’t have the heart to do it. As the Ravenclaw went through millions of fabrication and half-a**ed stories, the first year chose the option for her. She was staying.

Sigh. Whine. Groan. Brookline could do all of those yet that would seem she was less mature than she actually was. And for the record, she was level-headed and sagacious. Quite so. So, just for the company in the room, Brookline plastered a smile on her face, and nodded to the boy, for him to know she was still listening.

“Not much, actually. I’ve come to enjoy the library’s companies more than this Study Hall.” Her words become hard as she pronounced “Study Hall”, her annoyance only growing. So, perhaps she had to get out of here soon before she freaked out. Brookline stayed put, though, her attention on her bitten nails. And then Zephyr’s grin grew awkward, something inside her broke. Again. This probably occurs about half the time for the Welsh girl and she wanted to scream. This is was pity, right? The boy was offering help to her whenever she needed it. Brookline didn’t need help! She was a certainly-able pure-bred witch and she has her own back. Of course she has! What would happen to the Quinn legacy if she just started to ask others for help? Would it kill her high-supreme pure-bred, maternal grandparents if she asked for the aid of a Muggleborn? Her grandmother would likely rub out her eyes first.

Brookline smiled weakly, as she progressed how to response, her palms becoming sweaty by the very second. “Uh, it’s all right. Quite all right, even. Just here to help.”

“I hope I am not imposing and disturbing you or anything?”

That question just about got on Brookline’s nerve. An echo came back in her ears, like a regal whisper. Telling her to chill her words and fire. She obeyed, begrudgingly as she knew this is what she had to do.

“Oh, no, no. You’re fine. I -- this is fine. I don’t normally speak with first years a lot, I’m mostly in the library or somewhere else. You know. Tons of homework.”

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale, exhale. At least that crisis was overcame, only time for the even bigger obstacle. Or she could escape before a disaster? Perhaps she just needed to cool down.

occ note: brookline’s thoughts are not my own and are used for her purpose of her character.
sorry for the delay! quicker reply will hopefully come next time!

“Yes, I suppose attacking quills are dreadful.” Zephyr noticed her eyebrows were furrowed deeply as if she was thinking through something serious. “That's true, mine went totally out of control. I promise, I’ll stick to normal quills from now on.” He was embarrassed by what happened. Being new to this world, he was still adjusting to everything, including the simple items that were magical and out of the norm for him.

The girl's eyes scanned him as if sizing him up. He was obviously nervous and self-conscious, and was now trying not to fidget. He wondered if he had done something wrong, maybe he had been too clumsy with the quill, or maybe he had said something dumb. It might be him only, but he noticed the tension in her shoulders and the narrowing of her eyebrows. It made him second-guess everything about how he looked and sounded. His hands twisted together nervously, and he almost wished he could disappear in that moment. At the same time, he didn’t want to offend her or look disrespectful, so he forced himself to stay where he was, nodding and keeping his smile.

Inside, he was trying to assure himself that she was just checking if he was okay, or if he had broken anything. I hope I’m not being stupid…

He was feeling everything at once: nervousness, embarrassment, and intimidation, but also curiosity and hopefulness as he tried to gauge whether she was being serious, annoyed, or just cautious. Finally seeing her smile and accepting his handshake, his stomach loosened a bit, though the nerves didn’t completely vanish. It still felt like he was walking on uncertain ground around someone confident. Now she was laughing and commenting on his name. He chuckled and rubbed his nape. "I have to admit, it is a bit of a mouthful." Relieved that she was joking with him. "But it has a nice meaning." He was quite proud of that.

Her words about the Study Hall had that sharp edge which he noticed immediately. Her voice hardened, and her hands fidgeted. She’s annoyed… I should’ve guessed... Maybe it’s not the best place for her right now. His grin faltered just a little. Did he make his entrance at the wrong time? He wanted to blame his self-inking quill, but it's too late for that, and it wouldn't do him any good anyway.

She did give him assurance that she was just here to help, but why did he feel a bit awkward? Was his offer perceived as intrusive or patronising? He hated the thought that he might be making her uncomfortable. Looking at her, he tried to keep eye contact, but he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks from both the quill incident and the tension in the air. Brookline seemed capable, yet guarded, and yet, he wanted to make things easier for her. Maybe he walked on her while she was having a bad day.

Even in the careful way she spoke, Zephyr could feel the tension radiating off her. What was he supposed to feel that the girl did not normally speak with first years like him, and he wondered why that was. "Err, but the library is full of first years too, even this one." He looked around the area, though there weren't many people there, he was sure this place would be crawling with first-year students studying. "Do you...hate first years?" He didn't know where that came from; it was too late to take it back, and seeing her state, he was scared for himself. I'm totally screwed!

@Brookline Quinn

ℬrookline’s eyebrows furrowed, and for some reason, she gathered that the first year observed body language, his voice slightly trembling and rushed. In her mind, she smirked, full of malice, and the third year’s neck prickled. She felt horrible for feeling that way. Perhaps she really was that terrible of a creature people probably thought she was. A image of a spiky flower emerged in her brain, and Brookline perceived the plant wilt and shrink, like her own feelings.

Before the pause between their conversion grew lengthy, Brookline smiled and joked. “As if attacking quills amount to the danger to Fall and Spring Balls! Hah, the school itself is dangerous. Watch out, lad, danger is everything here in this castle." While the Welsh girl was mostly joking about the "danger everywhere" she would have liked to scare the young boy. It was fun being scared, and a slight horror wasn't so bad every once in a while. Right?

As she noticed the Hufflepuff tried his complete hardest not to tremble and shake underneath the third year's presence. Brookline rather liked it. Being feared after fearing her father. She didn't quite like trodding around carefully like walking on eggshells around both parents, and it was wonderful for a change. It was lovely to see such a modification, that it was set to vary for her purposes and passions. And, it was like being a queen with everything being handed to her, and Brookline could do whatever she would have liked. Without a single effect or consequences. What a life! As the boy wrung his hands together, he was most definitely anxious and fearful of what is to come next, and the teenager couldn't have wished for anything better. The underclassmen kept his little smile, though, and tried his best to remain control.

"You okay? If you continue that twisting of your hands, I'm afraid the skin might rub off!" While it meant to stroke off as a little tease, it slipped out of Brookline's lips like a drab toxin. Like a howling wolf, stalking off to the next bush to creep around. She relized what she said, and she knew if someone had said the same thing to her, Brookline would be slightly upset that someone noticed her little, lingering, signs full of tittering anxiety. So she'd add, "I, well, of course, I mean that I know that. I used to squeeze my hands too, and I was afraid too that my skin fall off too. Yet, sometimes things only seem. Yes?" Hopefully that explanation would ease off the little sting. And she wasn't really looking for such an answer, yet, just looking for assurance.

Brookline's stormy eyes lit up when Zephyr remarked that his given name had a pleasant meaning. “Well, that’s lovely! I haven’t focused much on entomology, yet, I adore learning about new things! What is the meaning, if you do not mind me asking?” The Ravenclaw gazed on, her mind clearly not in the Study Hall at this moment in time. It was as if someone had just exploded glitter in the air, and that glitter was oh so sparkly and enchanting! Before the young badger could explain nor open his lips, Brookline would ramble on excitingly. “Oh, how beautiful and outright amazing to have a name which literally doesn’t give away the meaning of said name. Brookline lowkey means land or, honestly, line by the brook. Betcha you could have guessed that. It’s a little bland, but, oh well, you gotta deal with whatcha got! You understand, of course? Sure you do!”

Just the mere mention of the “Study Hall”, at the moment, made anger seize her body, and her fists would form into tight balls. Brookline notice her voice grow rough as she spoke to the boy, and before the words could slip out, she tried so desperately that sentence not to string out. Yet, as always, it did, and she cringed when she saw the corners of the Hufflepuff’s smile droop. Droop like one of those funny sound in a old cartoon. The smile on her face, though, never left as it was forged and was as perfect as wonderful fake ID cards. She tried to unclamp her fists, and Brookline took a deep breath in and out.

As the boy tried to look at her, probably to speak or something, his cheeks turned a dull colour, and Brookline realized she was overwhelming him. She took a clumsy step back, and was about to make a foolish excuse to run when Zephyr remarked that there were tons of first years in the library. The Ravenclaw rolled her eyes where the underclassmen hopefully wouldn’t see the entitled eye-roll.

“That’s probably because I usually tuck myself in a corner, and yes, I do see underclassmen around a lot,” Brookline responsed to Zephyr’s quite unneeded addtion. ”Honestly, I think I see more first and second years around Hogwarts than upperclassmen. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if I found out that there were way more first years than there are fifth years. Or they could be hiding, like I tend to find myself doing.” When she finshed, Brookline wondered if she went on too much. She also wondered when she was able to bolt. This girl needed to run!

Then the younger wizard asked something that would make Brookline’s jaw go slack. It would also make her eyebrows twinge in pure confusion.

“Do you...hate first years?” The innocent yet digging question rolled off of Zephyr’s tongue too quick, and once he said it, he also seemed surprised. Brookline turned to face the underclassmen, to fully grasp what he had just enquired. She seemed perplexed, and thoroughly taken back. As if the boy had just insulted the Ravenclaw when he had asked the simple inquiry on whether or not Brookline despised him others his age.

“Me... hate?” Brookline seemed to ask herself. Her neck titled slighly up as she though. Then she shook her head, and let out a sort of a breathy laugh. “Do I detest first years? No, I do not. I do not see the point in hating a younger person than I, when they’re just trying to get a name for themselves. Technically if I hated first years, I would be hating my own sisters. Actually, I don’t know if I actually loathe anyone.” She explained firmly, almost like a professor chastising their students. her emotions tied up in a large yarn ball, and she felt everything at once. Brookline wondered what ever got such an idea in this young one’s mind?

She wasn’t that scary, right?

occ note: brookline’s thoughts are not my own and are used for her purpose of her character. sorry for the extreme delay! :[
also, note, this reply was written on two devices, hence the two different quotation marks

Zephyr reacted the only way he knew how. Since he was not sure whether she was joking or being sarcastic, he laughed at her words about the castle being dangerous. Joke or not, he knew it was true, based on the things he'd experienced so far ever since his arrival at the castle. “I’ve noticed, the staircases are moving a lot here, even my quill attacked me. I’m starting to think the castle’s testing me.” Or maybe first years in general just because they're easy targets, not to mention ignorant of whatever is happening inside the castle. He tried to match her tone, but there was something in her expression he couldn't place; it was making him uneasy. It sounded like she was only joking, but behind it, there was this nagging feeling that she was also testing him to see how he would react.

He was not exactly scared of her, it's more an awareness of her. It feels like standing near a dog that wasn't sure yet whether it liked you or not. Weird comparison, but that's how it feels for him at that moment. His entire face turned red when she pointed out his hands twisting together, so he stopped and dropped his hands to his sides. He didn't even realise he was doing it. It was embarrassing, especially when people noticed his small nervous habits. It did feel childish when it was pointed out to him. Though there was one thing he noticed with her, too, her tone didn't convey teasing, but it was snappy. However, when she added that she used to do the same thing, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. The girl was hard to read, one moment, she was full of sarcasm, the next, she was joking again. He shrugged, “I do it when I’m thinking or when I don’t know what to say.” He looked at her carefully, wondering if she was meant to mock him, or if she was hiding something of her own. People do that a lot when they're hurting. He just wished, if it's true that she's going through something, that she didn't have to go this far. He did not want her to think he was afraid. He studied her face while she spoke, when her voice would change between sharp and tired. It reminded him of how animals behave before a storm. They were restless and tense, despite nothing happening yet. He grew up noticing small changes like that. It was a habit he could not turn off.

He had not expected her to be that interested in his name. A minute ago, she was tense and distant, now her eyes look bright and curious. The sudden change was giving him whiplash, but he must admit, it was easier to respond to this version of her. “It means a gentle, mild breeze.” It was not the kind of wind that disrupted or caused chaos. Instead, it brings a pleasant sensation on a warm summer day. He was shy while explaining, but you can tell how proud he was of his name. “From Greek stories, Zephyrus was the god of the west wind, the bringer of lights and early spring breezes.” He did not know everything about the myth; he only knew what his father told him in his stories. Despite the limited knowledge, he liked the idea of being named after something gentle but strong. Wind could be gentle, but it could also move things. To be fair, the girl also explained her own name. She was speaking fast, almost rambling. There was a huge difference in how she sounded compared to a few moments ago, having too much energy all at once. He smiled upon hearing that her name meant land by the brook. “It's actually nice, it sounds peaceful and somewhere quiet. I grew up near fields and streams, so the idea of a brook was somewhat comforting to me. I don't think it was bland at all." She's not giving her name enough credit.

He knew it was a stupid thing to say, and he could see the impact it had on her. Her hands clenched, and Zephyr instinctively took a step back as he shallowed. He didn't understand why the room had this effect on her. He wished he had not brought it up earlier. He hated the feeling that he was making things worse. They both have the same reaction, he noticed her stepping back. And for a second there, he really thought she was going to leave. Truthfully, he was torn right now. He was relieved because finally, he would stop worrying about saying the wrong thing, but there was also that part that felt disappointed. He didn't want the conversation to end badly. Seeing her eye roll, his ears warmed again, but he didn't say anything. Adults used it when they thought someone was stating the obvious. She explained that she usually hides in a corner, and the word she used was hard to ignore. Hiding? "We're all curious, everything’s new, so we’re everywhere.” It was his simple explanation, a wild guess as to why there were younger students there rather than the senior ones. “Maybe older students are just busier, or better at staying out of sight.”

The moment his question came out, he knew it had been too direct. He had not meant to sound accusing but only to understand. All he could do was stand very still while she turned fully toward him. Uh oh... Did I say something completely out of line? Why did I say that? That was stupid thing to say! Of course, she doesn’t hate first years, or maybe she does. Oh no. He misread something, right? Although it almost feels like she was going to snap at him, she didn't; she just explained to him that she didn't see the point in hating younger students and even mentioned her sisters. “I didn’t mean it like that...” he said quickly once she finished. “I'm just clarifying. The way you said it earlier, about not talking to first years much. I thought maybe we annoy you.” She may have confused him, but it didn't make him dislike her. “If you need to go, it’s okay, I won’t take it personally.” She looked like she wanted to run away from that place.

@Brookline Quinn

ℬrookline turned her gaze to her new friend. Zephyr had remarked that he thought the castle was challenging him. She only chuckled slightly. The chuckle was as sinister as her tone of voice. The brunette wouldn’t be surprised if people thought of her of those villains who seemed like they were aiding the hero, but really weren’t.

“This old castle ain’t testing you.” Brookline waved her hand carelessly, as if to dismiss it from the Hufflepuff’s first-year brain. “It happens to the best of us. Anyways, I’m pretty sure this magic in Hogwarts is, like, really old. You could have guessed that anyway, couldn’t you?”

She laughed. Cue that laugh. It was all cues, and indications, and even hints. The Ravenclaw’s whole life was probably a set, and she was the only person who didn’t know that her own life was being filmed. Were all her siblings, friends, and professors those remarkable actors and actresses? Did they get paid to watch her break down? Did the audience laugh her father leave her? Is it even her own life? Brookline slowed her thoughts down, and tried to reveal the root of this present problem. Wasn’t there one movie that Aunt Nadine really wanted Brookline to see?

It was the Taylor Movie. No, The Truman Show! The half-blood was watching young eleven-year-old Brookline and took her to a old-fashioned theater. There, they watched The Truman Show where all his life, a man was filmed and didn’t know about it. The Welsh girl barely paid attention to it, because she kept thinking about how people would even be about to hook up pictures on a screen, but she was able to receive some information about the movie.

Brookline remarked in the odd twisting of the young boy’s hands, and instantly felt horrible about it, covering it with some lame excuse. As she spoke, Zephyr’s hands immediately dropped to his sides as if they were on fire. Then the underclassmen explained the matter of the wringing of his hands. Instantly, she felt horrible. Yet, she nodded understandly, although, it was like she needed some clarification. Brookine’s lips stayed pursed, she remained silent.

That tranquil quiet only lasted a few moments before Zephyr mentioned something exciting. Even for poor, most-of-the-time-moody Brookline. She rambled swiftly as she asked about the entomology of the Hufflepuff’s name. Her eyes rounded with sheer stimulation as Brookline explained the boring meaning of her own name. As asked, the underclassmen provided with the connotation of Zephyr, a pleased side to his voice. He clearly liked the significance of his name - meaning mild wind and apparently he was also named after the Greek god of west wind. Brookline immediately pounced on her toes, a wide smile forming on her face, all her thoughts on meaning, book detention, symbolism, and names. God, wasn’t she a bona fide Ravenclaw?

“Oh really? That sounds so cool; I would have never guessed “breeze” would ever contribute to Zephyr. Wicked!” The thriled, easy-going voice continued, and the excited murmuring made it so much easier for Brookline to be herself. She missed this part of her. The small, insignificant piece of her that could feel zero pain, and feel free from the iron shackling of her ankles, rusty metal cutting into the full edge of her skin. The brunette missed the part of her that makes her exciting. Now, she was this dull knife, that slices more, and with more dangerously.

Of course, just like a simple snap of fingers, Brookline had went from cold and rough, to enthusiastic and unrealistically eager, to cold and rough yet again. Hands started to sweat, yet she didn’t care and forced them into fists, half-moon marking appearing from ragged nails. The Welsh girl tried her very hardest to take a deep breath, to calm the heck down, before ugly words perform. She answered Zephyr’s question as gentle as she could, and her palms started to unnecessarily perspire, as she worried if she blurted way too much.

Then Zephyr mentioned his explanation on why Brookline would see more underclassmen than upper. She nodded, and dismissed it in her mind. Why did she even wonder that foolish statement aloud in the first place? She wanted to rot in a grave, already embarrassed herself and others as well. Instead, she focused on something else entirely different. Her breathing. If she was able to get out of this jinxed Study Hall, and with a proper reputation, she would have to keep her mouth shut unless asked a question that she quite I'd have to answer. Even then, Brookline would still have to concentration. Would she ever get out of here, anyway?

A plain, five-word question made Brookline’s face twitch in severe perplexity. She had never been accused of loathing something, and it made her feel guilty. She felt unpleased with herself and for about the millionth time, she wished that everything would go back the way it was. If she had a sickle for every time she would ask the universe a similar question, Brookline’d be rich. Even more wealthy than the Quinn’s line is today. She didn’t know how far the line went, yet, she wished she knew why the universe was pitching so much crap at her, and making fun of her when she falls. Why couldn’t the world see how wrong they were, too, and help fix each other? Question after question, Brooklime still wouldn’t get a answer. Of course, she was a small, negligible girl, who doesn’t deserve to be included in the world’s decisions nor it’s friend.

Brookline explained why she didn’t hate first years, and it almost felt trivial while she waited for Zephyr’s next word. Of course she liked first years! But that odd emotion she got when she was glad that this underclassmen was trotting carefully on eggshells around her, turned onto pooling remorse. The Hufflepuff seemed realistically fearful, like he regretted that unwise yet spoken question. Perhaps Brookline wished she could be the one who would walk around carefully on cracking, delicate shells. She knew it was only right after she thought so carelessly.

The boy’s words came out quicker after she answered him, as if he was afraid Brookline would bolt away at any second. When he seemed like he was only clarifying, Brookline nodded, and uttered, “It’s okay.” And it truly was. “Truth be told, I only interact with people as I actually need too, so sorry if I confused earlier. ” Rather than angry, the brunette seemed more pathetic than incandescent.

Then the next words Zephyr said surprised her. “Are you sure you’re not telling me what you think I should hear?” Brookline asked, now feeling utterly defeated. Obviously like a ton of her friends, this Hufflepuff that Brookline just met is quite well at reading hard emotions.

occ note: ughhh why is life in the way? i again apologize for the late response :pepecries:

Zephyr watched the older girl as she spoke, he was trying to follow both her words as well as the way she delivers them. There was something he was concerned about it, not really what she said but how she said it. Particularly… that chuckle. As if she knew something that he didn’t. What could it be? He couldn’t tell if she’s joking or serious or being sarcastic at the same time. It was disconcerting. People back home were easier to read, if someone was joking, they laughed, if they were annoyed, they will just tell you. It’s that simple. But this girl…not so much. She simply waved off his idea that the castle was testing him, and all he could do was scratch the back of his head. “Whatever you say…it did feel like it sometimes.” And that was based on his experience. “From where I grew up, nothing starts moving or acting on their own.” Unless it’s being controlled by machinery or battery or electricity, which he knew by now would not work here. “So when they do here, it’s hard not to think it’s on purpose.”

His attention went back to her as she mentioned magic being old. “I can agree to that, the castle looks old and ancient including everything that’s in here. I just don’t know how it all works yet.” That was the part he dislikes, not knowing. He was used to learning by doing and figuring things out as he went but magic doesn’t always work like that. One wrong move and… well, something mind blowing will happen, like being thrown by the moving stairs for example. Or worse.

Hearing her laughter again, he glanced at her. There it was again, that same feeling. He couldn’t tell if she was just amused or if she was thinking about something else completely. She’s complicated, that was the best way he could put it in his head. It was not really bad, she was just hard to follow. A shy smile appeared. “No, most of the time I couldn’t.” He was not embarrassed saying it to her because he’s just new and still is adjusting to the school and in the magical world in general.

“…Did I say something wrong?” he asked with cautiousness since the girl fell silent again, unless she was mulling over something. He didn’t fully understand her yet, but he was starting to realize something important, she’s not really trying to be mean. All he could think of, is that he came at the wrong place and time. Her reaction could change in a minute, one moment she was serious, then curious and now she light up upon hearing the meaning of his name. “My dad told me about it, he likes those kinds of stories.” It just grew on him, he had no idea it has special meaning. At least to him it’s special, and he knew now it’s a rare name.

But then, the atmosphere changed a bit again, her hands clenched and she looked stiff. What now? Was the girl even aware of the reactions she’s doing while in deep thought? She explained that she only talks to people when she needs to, which is fair in his opinion. Like him, he likes being on his own more. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.” There were days he would spend hours alone out in the fields, playing, working or thinking. It doesn’t mean something’s wrong with him, it’s just what he needed at the moment. Her question surprised him. “No,” shaking his head, “I wouldn’t know what you want to hear anyway. I’m just saying what I think.” She doesn’t seem like someone who wants people to just agree with her all the time. “You’re just hard to read, that’s all.” He didn’t say it as if it was a bad thing, he wanted her to know he was curious about her.

OOC: it’s okay! Don’t worry about delays, I can wait

@Brookline Quinn