The Shape of Wood PV Sky Evans Closed

Interactions: @Zykeal Lane

Change. The word in itself held uncertainty, the equally balanced possibility of it producing negative or positive attributes to your life. There was always the chance of regret, the chance of negative outcome. Summer had swept by rather swiftly, and Sky found herself acting quite different from how she had been last year. It wasn't as though any revolutionary mishaps had occurred during the summer, aside from the fact that she now was subjected to ‘be more nice’ according to her mother.

The young slytherin was almost identical to her father, proud, stubborn, witty and strong-willed. Such attributes were not so easy to faze, she couldn't always help the fact that she could be quite regal in her ways, or how she spoke her mind rather harshly at times. Prior to second year, she had embraced the fact that she was quite stuck up, first year Sky had acted almost like royalty, her voice dignified and well-spoken, always wanting her way, critical eyes aware of any suspicious act. She supposed summer had changed her a bit, for she had softened slightly, her arrogant nature more subtle and her stubbornness eased a little as she delved into her second year- willing to keep her mother's promise.

In fact, it was this very thought that had captivated her mind as she took a lazy stroll in the grounds, her bag slung around her shoulder. She adored her mother, yet she couldn't help being quite the opposite of her. Mélanie Evans was quite easy going, naturally a friendly people person, Sky could see why she had been a hufflepuff. Her youngest brother had also taken up on this nature, while Sky and her older brother had similar attributes to their father. This sparked many fights between the two, who were undoubtedly too alike in their ways to get along. Pretty, yet formal attire she accompanied today, the weather being typical for fall season. She watched as stray leaves rusted around her shoes, the amber and orange tones contrasting with the greener grass, the colours quite welcome to her eyes. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she continued to walk towards the lake, intent on finding a tranquil place to sit.

She would have barely taken a few sets forward when she spotted another student not so far off, sitting by one of the many trees that occupied the lushus grounds of hogwarts. Usually the girl wouldn't have taken notice, or interest, come to that matter. However as she took several more steps forward, the person in question came into focus and she raised her eyebrows in curiosity, approaching him without thinking it through. It was Zykeal Lane, the boy she had met during the classroom event, and then yet again at the summer camp crafting activity. Curiosity spiked her mind to whatever he was doing, for he seemed to be carving something out of, was it wood? Sky would have avoided him, for she didn't want any sort of contact with the witnesses of the horrible classroom event. However as Zykael had been the only one intelligent enough to stir free from detrimental involvement, she thought she would take her chance. He seemed okay after all, even if Sky’s opinion on him was still skeptic. Halting her steps in front of the gryffindor, she spoke up, “Hey.” Another sign of change, for first year Sky might have snapped at him or shot over a snarky remark to whatever he was doing. Yet the sass had been abandoned and instead she spoke rather softly, her upper class british accent quite audible despite the lack of arrogance in her tone. Never did she think she would be talking to a gryffindor so calmly, this fact was quite absurd in the instance that she had been quite opposed to any of the lion house last year, she still kinda was.

Deciding that she indeed would follow through on what she had intended to do, she extracted her sketchbook from her bag, one she had been gifted by a relative a while back. It held drawings that went as far back as her first day of hogwarts, for that had been the time she had started to make use of her artistic skills. However, it seemed that she was instead presently captivated by what the boy was doing, and so her fingers paused their motion of flicking the pages, and she instead stopped to observe the talented sculptor, gazing at him with interest. “Where did you learn to do that?” Well some attributes of her personality had not changed, for she was still as curious as she had been before, her mind not afraid to spill valuable words of interest. Unlike Walker, who seemed to endlessly babble on about useless topics, Sky was more likely to stay silent and observe before speaking her mind rather clearly for everyone to hear. If he did not answer, she would sit back and begin to draw on a fresh page, her hands skillfully sketching the outline of a western jackdaw she had spotted not far off, perched upon the branch of an oak tree.

PV:@Sky Evans

With his mind cast off into a distant place, the wind rustling the leaves of the tree, Zykeal would not hear the approach of another being into the area to which he was currently resting. As he lay back against the tree, comfortable with the position he held for the time being, he tapped his pointer finger gently along the length of his wand that his hand rested. It always seemed that the boy needed to be fidgeting with the object of his obsession, his wand, and the connection it brought him to the magical world. This was not to say that his upbringing wasn't something amazing that he didn't cherish, he loved his muggle friends back home and cherished the summer times he got to spend with them. This though, this one object had solidified his belonging into the society of wizards and opened a whole new world for him to explore; a chance to be more than another one of those in his neighborhood who never left.

It wasn't until the soft-spoken word of 'Hey' reached his ears, barely audible over the sharp winds and brushing branches of the tree, was heard, that he peeked his lids so that they were barely open. This didn't startle him physically, instead, it jostled his mind and he mentally chastised himself for being so foolishly caught unaware. The soft tapping of his wand would cease and he would slowly grip the hilt of the object as barely was able to see through the lashes that were still intertwined. The girl that stood there was one that he recognized, almost immediately, as he had thought of her from time to time; although he'd never admit this. Lids would fully raise then and the golden irises of those piercing eyes would look directly upon the girl, Sky.

The first thing that he noted was how proper she seemed, quite in contrast with his skater-style of attire; they seemed to be polar opposites in this regard. Skys' accent was obvious, as well, and any proper working-class Irishman would recognize it in a heartbeat, casting pre-conclusions to the individual's livelihood. This was not Zykeal though, he didn't bother to judge people based on their appearance since he had started attending this school, instead, he started basing them off their actions. Skys' actions, to him, were quite humorous and lovely to behold. She interested him more than the bland bravado of those who were chosen for his own schools' house, she seemed, calculated, to him. These thoughts blew through his mind as quickly as it took her to start to fetch something from her bag, he took the time to sit up a little and brush the loose shavings from his clothing.

"Hey back," he responded with, the smile still lingering upon his features.

After she produced what seemed to be a sketchbook, she seemed to pause to observe the activity that he had previously been working on and questioned him about it. For a moment, Zykeal just looked down at the piece of wood he had been carving out to resemble a wand, the intricate lines he tried to duplicate, and the failure he had eventually created. When he looked back to her, she seemed to be settling herself down and flicking through the pages of her book. Sky seemed willing to make herself comfortable, join him even, without any provocation from himself. This seemed quite out of character for the Slytherin, he thought. Regardless, he didn't mind her company and decided to respond to her in inquiry, "Just a hobby I picked up," offering a shrug, downplaying his obsession in that Dublin accent of his. The pair didn't seem to be big on long conversations, from his experience at least, and it only took him a moment more of watching her flick through the pages of her sketchbook for him to fetch out a rectangular piece of stone from the satchel he had next to him.

"What will you draw?" he questioned, interest peeked in the girls' own skills.

With his question asked, he set down his wand upon his lap and grasped his woodcarving tool once more. With soft, quiet strokes of the curved blade against the stone, he started to sharpen the tool. Those eyes of his shifted down towards his work and he paid careful attention to make sure that he didn't chip the blade or dull the point as he worked out the soft parts of the blade. An ear would be left open though if she decided to respond to him and he wouldn't mind a conversation with the girl; she interested him.