Illicit Investigations PV Marshal M. Closed

Stunning Banner by Winnie Harper

@Ruka Burnett-Tân

Adventure is like food - you can't live without it. And if you do find a way to do so, then true anguish is experienced.
To have an adventure is to find enjoyment in this otherwise monotonous life. It adds flavor to a dull dish, acting as a strange, exotic spice whose name you can't pronounce - offering no small amount of anxiety and distress, but promising something unique to your personal palette. Whether your exploits come in the form of traveling to a new place, leaping from a plane with nothing but a piece of cloth to ensure the continuation of your life, or simply stepping outside your comfort zone to speak with a random person, the effect of adventure remains consistent. That shuddering jolt of excitement, initially disguised as fear, which fills your breast in the moment, and stays in the memory of your soul forevermore; received as a fond experience for your nostalgic heart, or a foolish mistake from which to take wisdom, it never fails to leave you impacted for the better.
Truly, a life without adventure is doomed to tedium.

And a life without chips is doomed to crunch-less silence.

In the infinite kindness of her heart, Marshal's mother had recently sent him a package, containing a loving letter, extra underwear, and a bag of his favorite potato chips.
Upon receiving said package, the boy had regretted any past notions that the woman was overly demanding concerning his education, or stubborn about things regarding his 'safety' or some such. All childish criticisms were hopelessly drowned by the wave of gratitude which had flooded his heart, his certainty that none had a better mother than he reinforced.

Presently, it was getting late. The sun had nearly completed its celestial trot across the sky, diving for the protective wall of mountains on the horizon by the time Marshal had grown weary of his homework. Tired, flustered, and convinced his brain would quit its job prematurely, the first-year's eyes had fallen upon that blessed bag of potato chips at the foot of his bed.
With its gently crumpled opening graced by chip crumbs, grease glistening invitingly about its perimeter, the bag had uttered a beckoning cry that simply couldn't be ignored.
Practically floating over disheveled bed sheets, the boy had grasped the anticipated snack with ardor and placed a small piece of heaven into his welcoming mouth. With a crunch, the salt cascaded about his taste buds, refreshing his weary mind with a single bite.
However, he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that his situation could be improved even further. He had chips, it was true, and that was enough to satisfy his wildest dreams. And yet, why stop there? Why not build upon that manifestation of glory by adding another thing he loved?
Coming to a decision, he'd clasped the bag tightly and whisked it from the dorms.

Unsure of where he was going, but entirely certain that it was going to be spectacular, he'd ventured to the castle's bottom floor, picked a random direction and full sent it, all concerns of getting lost thrown to the wind. After all, losing your way only made an adventure more organic.
Upon many a confident stride, his unvarying feet had negotiated a flight of steps he'd never before noticed.
Completing a quick calculation, he'd devised that - since the ground floor had already been traversed - those descending steps must lead to the basement. This fact had pulled the corners of his lips into an eager grin, hailing his excitement as yet another chip met its demise between unforgiving teeth.
Surely, the basement of an ancient castle - or even better, and ancient, magic castle - was required to hold stories untold, and mysteries to unfold. And who better to discover them than a fletchling wizard, who was actively being tutored in the art of casting spells without failing?
It was doubtful that anything could go wrong.

It wasn't until the pressing darkness had encroached upon his vision that he came to understand his predicament. Here he was, in an unfamiliar area, unable to see two feet in front of his face. Of course, among the number of spells he could cast was the light charm, Lumos, which would certainly come in handy. However, he only had two hands - one for holding the divine bag of potato chips, and another snatching the contents from its depths and placing them into his mouth.
The more he thought about it, the more challenging the situation appeared.
Discarding the chips was out of the question, obviously; such a thought wouldn't be branded as relevant. And nearly as preposterous was the option of returning the way he'd come, thus leaving the basement to be explored by some other intrepid soul.
He wouldn't have it. Couldn't stand for it. It was his adventure to have, and his alone.
Even still, something had to be done. And just then, stalking blindly through the gloom, he'd been hit with an idea that would make his personal highlight reel at the end of the week.

Now coming to a halt, the young Gryffindor threw an elbow out like a chicken wing, then shuffled sideways until that elbow came into contact with the stone wall.
Awkwardly sliding against its surface without using his grease-stained fingers, he plopped onto his backside and released a contented sigh.
Situating himself comfortably, he proceeded to extract another chip and chew, not bothering to do so quietly, since he was surely the only one around.
The blatant lack of etiquette resulted in shameless crunching, the sound reverberating through the cavernous space.

Sitting alone in the dark, munching loudly on potato chips.
Adventure truly was a wondrous thing.

Not three full minutes passed before a flickering glow crept around the corner, heralding the entrance of another individual - a fellow student, by the looks of him.
Hidden on the outskirts of the torchlight, Marshal would evade the boy's wandering eyes, like a phantom lurking in the shadows. And munching on chips.
The stranger's dull expression of distaste drew the blonde-haired boy to his feet once more. Seeing the other student turn a different direction, he considered remaining hidden and executing a prank of epic proportions, but upon further reflection, rejected the notion. He didn't know this person, and therefore couldn't judge how they would react; while he was all for learning new spells, taking them to the face wasn't generally the preferred method of doing so.

Raising the bag in his hand, Marshal called out. To the stranger, the question would be heard as a random voice in the dark. "You want some chips, bro?"