first days and second looks closed

Hazel eyes study the ceiling in silence, occasionally glancing at the mechanical clock dimly illuminated by a soft yellow glow. The clock seemed to linger on three in the morning for hours, each glance only further slowing down time. The nights where Icarus could snag more than four hours of sleep were few and far in between. Every time the weight of exhaustion made his eyelids heavy, images of raging fire and the mysterious room in his family’s mansion with portraits of missing wizards and menacing skulls beneath them would flash across his shut eyes, startling him awake once more.

Another glance at the clock. Five minutes past three am. There wouldn't be anyone awake for at least another three hours and Icarus had no intention of disturbing the others by using his wand to read away the dawn. Fingers still singed from the fire that consumed his Scottish mansion traveled from where they were massaging his temples to the gold band around his finger. In intricate cursive, ‘Sable’ was inscribed beneath his family’s crest across the ring, and although the Slytherin has his doubts about proudly displaying a name that was whispered in fear, Icarus couldn't bring himself to take it off. He was the Sable heir, of course, and so it was his duty to carry his family above himself, no matter the cost. His eyes lazily drifted to the roses from the boy he briefly met during the summer. They had long since wilted and the chocolates had been devoured in a haste. He was tempted to toss the dried out flowers, having served their purpose of bringing him a hint of joy for the short time they remained vibrant. But after having his life go up in flames along with a friendship that he longed to repair, the quiet sentimental side of Icarus spoke louder than the resentment he felt. A sigh escaped from Icarus as he fell back against his pillows, pulling the blanket over his eyes to mimic the darkness that had existed in the room before dawn had risen.

Three thirty flashed across the clock's face when Icarus' eyes moved from the dorm’s roof to the nightstand beside the bed. Finally, the Slytherin's eyes began to flutter shut as exhaustion took over, cloaking his world in blissful darkness. Reality shifted into dreams of pleasant memories...for now. it wasn't long before paranoia crept into Icarus' unconscious mind and played out the same nightmare he had lived through night after night.

Flames lapped at Icarus' heels as he ran down one of the many hallways of his Scottish mansion, the corridor walls warm to the touch from the fire that raged on the other side of the wall. The smoke that lingered in his lungs burned, forcing the boy to his knees as he gasped for breath, clawing at his throat with dull nails to force himself to exhale. A layer of soot dusted his previously white collared shirt, having abandoned his royal purple coat a few doorways ago. He moved his hands away from his throat to brush the ash from his curly espresso locks, stumbling to his feet as his spine felt the scorching heat drawing nearer. Despite being surrounded by flames, Icarus shivered in fear as he kept running, pulling his shirt above his nose to filter out the worst of the smoke. A door! Cautiously, Icarus felt the surface of the door with the back of his hand. Tears of relief pricked at the edges of his eyes as the oak door felt cold against his burnt hand. Eagerly he twisted the doorknob, taking a step forward only to fall into darkness, his mouth widening to scream but nothing came out.

Thud!

The wind was knocked out of Icarus as he fell from his bed unto the cold floor, his head throbbing from the subsequent impact. Icarus awoke with a choked sob as the nightmare jolted him awake from what little sleep he managed to get, his hand clasped tight against his mouth so he didn't startle any of his sleeping dormmates. His eyes were dull and bloodshot with tears that threatened to escape. Groaning, Icarus slowly rose to his feet, rubbing the back of his head with a grimace. Relief washed over him as the clock flashed six o'clock. There was still time to make himself presentable before sauntering to the Great Hall for a much needed cup of coffee. The boy wiggled out of his pajama shirt and pulled a white collared shirt over his bare skin, sharply intaking a breath as the fabric grazed the month-old burn across his chest. His silver and green tie hung loosely around his collar, slightly crooked as it tucked into his sweater vest. Woolen slippers were replaced with black loafers which were partially obscure by his green tartan slacks. With a quick glance in the mirror, Icarus ran a comb through his curls, making sure each strand was in place before he left the confines of the dorm. When the Slytherin boy was satisfied with his appearance, he entered the common room with his arms folded across his chest in an effort to dismiss the prying conversations into his exhausted appearance.

He leaned against an armchair for a moment, taking a minute or two to recollect himself from the rude awakening the nightmare had brought. The sound of footsteps alerted him to a presence of a fellow snake, too light and agile to belong to his male companions. When he turned around, he was greeted by a slight smile from the girl whom the footsteps belonged to. Had she been watching him since he left the dorm? A rosy tint found its way to his cheeks, knowing she had seen him in a weak moment. Suddenly, his loose tie felt tight against his neck as she spoke to him about breakfast. Icarus' hand reached up to adjust the tie as he answered with a nod, "Ah, I was just heading over. I swear they have the vents from the kitchen directly installed into this ceiling, I can smell the french toast already." He managed to produce a thin smile back at the girl to give his face a much needed respite from its usual scowl.

As the girl made her way to the door, Icarus followed suit, the heels of his shoes clicking against the stone flooring. Narrowed hazel eyes studied his fellow housemate whom he had seen many times before but hadn't made an effort to engage more than a quick greeting here and there. Her honey blonde hair and regal disposition reminded him of the fair maidens that roamed from painting to painting along the Hogwarts' walls. The sweater that she wore was obviously meant for a more masculine body, hanging off her lithe frame. Perhaps it belonged to a friend? He stood in the doorframe for a moment, only moving when she looked back at him. Their eyes interlocked for a moment, his eyes with clashing hues of green, blue, and amber searching the depths of her navy blue eyes, finding himself lost within the storms the raged within. Icarus tore himself away from her gaze for a moment, shrugging his way past her as she allowed him to make the first step into the hall, the sound of his footstep echoing against the acoustics of the corridor.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced. Icarus Sable." The boy extended a hand adorned with jewelry in greeting. "I assume you're a fellow second year as well? I've seen you a few times last year but I suppose our destinies didn't intend for us to meet until now." Icarus' voice was laced with honey, smoother than its usual sharp tone that dug into the skin of those he found a nuisance. "Besides, I'd never forget a face like yours. Carefully sculpted but soft enough to dull the edges of your cheeks, inlaid with eyes of precious navy sapphires." The words spilled from his mouth as if some romantic ghost had possessed him for a moment. "Ah, don't mind me. I have an appreciation towards art, especially masterpieces." The Slytherin boy chuckled, waving a hand as if to dismiss his description of the girl's face as something genuine and instead played it off as a humorous attempt strike up a conversation like some cruel joke his boyish mind concocted.

September 2nd, 2020 before 'french toast to freindship' thread
@Icarus Sable
Outfit

As they step into the quiet stone hallway, as the boy, Icarus, introduced
himself. They shake hands, his rough and calloused in comparison to the blonde's baby smooth fingers. The light shines on her companion, bringing out deep golds and greys in his Slytherin green eyes. Amara blinks and pulls her eyes, hand, and self away from the Sable boy. His voice, smooth as honey and sweet as sugar, causes her heart to thump. As he begins to flatter her, words that do not belong in the sullen mouth of a teenage boy, words that should be written down in the finest print, held as sacred.

Amara looks down, ripping her thoughts away from his voice, his words. Shrugging it off is unsurprising, he is still a 12-year-old boy. Still, red creeps up Amara's neck, he looked at like she was something worth looking at, in a way not even Hanzo made her feel.

They begin to walk, the tapping of there shoes reverbrating against the the stone walls of the Hogwarts castle. Finally finding the right words to say, Amara breaks the scilence. "I am no more a piece of art than you are a masterpeice."

Internally cursing herself, the color drains from the pale girls face, making her seem ghostly. What is she doing, extanging flattery with a boy she just met, a boy who is not her boyfriend. Amara nibbles her lip and and stands rigidly, refusing to look at the Sable boy.