Closed One, Two, Three PV Evelynn Decipio

───Interactions─── Reducio @Aaron Jones

NORWEGIAN | SWEDISH RUSSIAN | GERMAN | ENGLISH

────Mentions──── Reducio n/a

Bread crunched satisfyingly, tender slightly sweet flesh giving way to teeth as they cut through the crispy crust. It was still warm inside, the steam billowing to plant little puff kisses upon Greta's cheeks. A simple, but comforting snack to accompany her adventures through the stony halls whose empty expanses and chilly drafts necessitated warmth to counteract them. Given the lunch hour, many of the castle's inhabitants were still nestled in along their long tables in the Great Hall, giving Greta a chance to wander unhindered around the halls. Something she took great advantage of.

She always got the impression that foreign students weren't terribly welcome to be wandering while Hogwarts was in class. Unnecessary noise and distraction in the halls and all that. Besides, when classes were in session, she couldn't peer into them to sate her curiosity. A stack of pillows rested on the desk of the class from which she'd just pulled her head, empty boxes lining the walls, curious to know what those would be for. Maybe depulso practice.

Humming to herself, she continued to wander down the hall, bouncing periodically on the balls of her feed, fingers prying at the bread, tearing a piece and slipping it into her mouth without a concern in the world as she popped her head in to each class she passed. A stack of texts. Tables pushed back to create a clearing in the room with a peculiar chest at its centre. A terrarium of lizard looking things scurrying around. A barren room with a boy dancing with an invisible partner.

Greta paused, retreating back the two steps she had taken after glimpsing that last image and stopped in the doorway once again. Something about the boy tickled the back of her mind. For some reason. Really, there wasn't anything that should have stood out. He seemed to be average in height with pale complexion and dark raven hair kept short. Typical asian features and a certain grace about his movements. Maybe grace wasn't the right word. As she watched, he seemed to be moving through some simple steps of a dance. Granted, that had been clear enough from the way that he held himself, back straight, one hand poised as though to hold someone elses, and the other elevated as though to place on the back of an invisible partner. But if grace wasn't the right word, perhaps fluid was. As uncertain as his steps seemed to be, he had impeccable control over his body. Like an athlete.

It was mesmerizing in a way. Nibbling at the last bits of her bun, Greta continued to watch him from the door frame, seafoam eyes tracing his movement across the floor. A step here, a turn there, a—

Rolling to see if she notices black veins
d20[19]+10 = 29

—as he turned away from her, she thought she saw something near his neck. Like black lines crawling their way up from beneath his collar. It was only for a second, though. A moment later and he had turned back towards her, his hands dropping suddenly to his sides.

Jarred from her wonder and realizing she'd been caught spying, heat rushed to colour Greta's countenance as though she stood as a mirror to the boy. Ready to make a hasty retreat, her fingers plopped the last of the bread into her mouth before shifting to wipe crumbs away on the blouse of her patchwork dress and raising once more to wave in the air like rudders that would propel her away from the situation. The sole of her shoe scuffed on the grown with one step back as as stammered out a muffled, "Sh-shorry..." and pointed a finger to the direction she planned to retreat.

Then he grinned, and posed a simple question. Once again Greta froze, this time coaxed to a halt by the familiarity of his voice. All of a sudden, it dawned on her. "Draw boy!" She exclaimed, clapping her hands together in triumph. She knew he'd seemed familiar! He was the boy from the summer camp a year and a half or so back!

"Lost?" she echoed, chuckling embarrassedly to herself. "No, no I am not Lost. I am Greta," she smiled, pointing to her chin as she corrected him on her name. "Ehm... Ay..." Lines etched themselves onto her brow and lips puckered as she tried to file back to that time and retrieve his own moniker. "Ae...ro... Ehm...Ayrone? Yes?"

Taking his addressment of her as invitation, she stepped into the room, and took a moment to look around more fully, turning a single spin on her tiptoes as she did. "What is it you do?" She wondered, completing the circuit and coming to face Ayrone again. "Why you do to dance not with a person?"

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iNPC Greta Fransson (@Evelynn Decipio)

───Interactions─── Reducio @Aaron Jones

NORWEGIAN | SWEDISH RUSSIAN | GERMAN | ENGLISH

────Mentions──── Reducio Nichlas Forsberg

The mirror of a smile was flashed at Aaron as her intrusion was met, not with consternation as she might have feared, but instead with an apparent warm welcome. It faded after a moment as he repeated her name and confirmed her own memory of his. Although, the correction of pronunciation wasn't lost on her.

"Aaron.." she repeatedly murmured quietly to herself during her spins as though attempting to ingrain it firmly into memory so that she could be sure to say it right next time. "Sorry," she abashed when facing him again, a sheepish curl at the corner of her lips accompanying the movement of fingers to tuck a curtain of waves behind an ear.

Only all too aware that her muttering might have been a touch odd, and feeling more than a little guilty about having pronounced his name incorrectly, she hoped to garner his forgiveness. Fortunately for her, it seemed unnecessary. Whether he held a grudge or not, he transitioned to answering her inquiries with levity.

"Practice for dance?" she echoed, smile widening again, fully appreciating the effort.

Immediately, she was struck with the notion of sharing a dance with her own ball partner, a ripple in her stomach firing off restless pangs of electricity down every limb and leaving her mind a spinning blur of light-headedness. Just the thought of actually sharing proximity with Niche, his hand on her waist, her own in his other… It was almost enough to buckle her knees and send her into an early nap right there on the empty classroom floor. A blush sweeping across her face, she clapped the flats of her hands against either cheek, chin sinking in to the seam where heels met as she fought against the dreaminess clouding her sight.

"Secret?" Greta echoed, her voice sounding a little far off, despite her consciousness battling valiantly for a presence.

Eyes dipped to watch the movement of the boy's lips as he spoke and she was struck with the realization that he was speaking slower than most students she would overhear. Consideration for her, perhaps? That was so nice of him. Head tilting slightly, her brows pinched with her effort to understand the message he was trying to get across, and she nodded furiously as though she did. Which… perhaps she wasn't all that far off. She understood there was something about a secret, and that there was a friend he was going to the dance with, a surprise, practice, and she was very good at dancing.

"You are good friend," she surmised, smiling brightly while flicking her gaze back to his, "to make difficult a time to learn the dance. I think friend is.. Ehm.." She paused, eyes fishing around the room as she tried to find the words to express what she wanted to say. While her English had improved in leaps and bounds compared to where it had been previously, her vocabulary was horribly lacking, and she really didn’t know how to employ verbs in anything but the present tense. Which… just really didn't suit this moment at all. "..friend to be happy you practice."

As for his other inquiries. Greta's smile had faltered slightly after her response, replaying—or trying to—his questions back in her head. The only thing she had really registered was his inquiring about why she was here. Her head had swivelled back to the door, hands dropping finally from her face to clasp themselves against her lap, wringing in the layers of her skirt.

"Ehm.." She looked back to him, chewing momentarily on the inside of her cheek, then shrugged. She didn't really have any reason in particularly for why she was there. Just that it was where her curiosity had directed her and her feet had followed. "I look at Hogwarts?" she answered uncertainly, fingers lifting to scratch lightly at the back of her head. "I.. Ehm.. I go… if you want. Or…" A thought had occurred to her, one that refreshed that crooked smile of uncertainty. "..I can help? Ehm.." She gestured an open palm towards him before clasping it back over her own and rocking back onto the heels of her feet. "..to dance?"

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iNPC Greta Fransson (@Evelynn Decipio)

───Interactions─── Reducio @Aaron Jones

NORWEGIAN | SWEDISH RUSSIAN | GERMAN | ENGLISH

────Mentions──── Reducio Nichlas Forsberg

Silence. And more silence. Sure, it wasn't as though Greta had expectedhim to jump at the opportunity to dance with her or anything. It was just a passing thought. Somethign she thought might help him gain more confidence if he was actually able to practice not just on his own. But his response wasn't exactly what she'd anticipated. He seemed speechless. Lost for words. Had she gone too far? Was that rude here? The most time that passed, the more embarrassed she felt for asking in the first place. Her rocking slowed, the colour rising further into her cheeks until it reached her ears. And still the lack of anything other than an open mouth gape of unintelligible sound had been uttered, the pregnant silence spanning between them until she felt compelled to lift a hand to nervously tuck a mop of wavy tangled hair behind and ear.

"S-sorry," she had finally murmured, already shifting her foot with every intention to swivel on the spot and high tail it out of there in hasty retreat. But her apology had come the moment he had accepted, their contrasting sentiments clashing in a cacophony that hopefully their dancing would not mirror. "Oh!" She exclaimed, pausing in place when his delayed answer had caught up to her, relief washing over her like a bucket of icy water. She stared at him, perplexed for a second, digesting what he said afterwards. Then the giggles came. Not because she found him funny, but because of the second layer of embarrassment for doubting herself in the first place.

"Yes! I am to want helping!" Grinning, she jutted out her hands, more confident now than ever. "And yes, I am have the knowing." Unfortunately, her writer... not so much. So what would follow would be a rather meta situation of generically explaining how to proceed with the basic steps. Of course, Aaron had already gotten the basics down, so there was no real need to teach him that. But the flow was different with a partner, so with a combination of broken English and gestured charade, the girl would attempt to relay her moderate knowledge of the basics. What her father had first taught her in order to pass at social functions of pureblood society.

Of course, it was one thing to practice—or demonstrate—as an individual unit, and quite another to practice together. Eventually, she would have to come forward again, left hand raised to his shoulder height, right hand out slightly to one side. An invitation for him to make that contact. "You are to... ehm... to make the practice?"

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iNPC Greta Fransson (@Evelynn Decipio)

───Interactions─── Reducio @Aaron Jones

NORWEGIAN | SWEDISH RUSSIAN | GERMAN | ENGLISH

────Mentions──── Reducio Nichlas Forsberg

It was a bit strange standing there in the middle of the empty room and dancing to an inaudible tune. She wasn't often one to attend dances, but on those times where her mother forced her into a frilly clean frock to attend some pureblood event or other, the rooms were packed with people trying to make an impression and putting their best foot forward. There was always a certain amount of comfort found in being able to shrink in those moments and hide in the sea of bodies.

Not so here. She was—be her own volition—on full display, and even though the steps were simple enough that she could have done them in her sleep, she couldn't stop the heat from rising to her cheeks. For the most part, her gaze was kept deliberately forward and up a little, the better to avoid eye contact should it drift in Aaron's direction. On the one occasion it did, however, his focus was apparent. Any anxiety or embarrassment she might have felt was most certainly alleviated at least in part by the occasional tapping of his feet as he monitored her steps. Enough that a crooked smile skewed her lips, persisting even when she had offered her hand for him to join.

To his credit, he didn't seem to balk at the idea. And if he had, it might have been for entirely different reasons than she might have thought. No thought at all had really been given to the fact that she was about to dance with someone she hardly knew. That was always sort of the point of a dance. More often than not, a mother would convince a boy to ask a girl to dance—or outright speak for him—and that would be how the two would first meet. It was a chance to get to know each other in a way.

Head bowed to watch him shift his feet and place his hands, Greta waited patiently. No corrections were needed. And as he lifted his attention to inquire on leading, she grinned with a, "Mhm!"

He was very gentle, she noted. Not quite hesitant, but not pushy, either. His presence was completely different from what she was used to. Maybe it was the chocolate brown of his eyes that reminded her of the delightful chocolate frogs she adored so much, but she found herself growing more at ease with every step and comfortable to let him plod their course. It might not have been as confident as Niche would have been, or as rambunctiously exhuberant as any of the boys from her teams, but there was a sense of deliberation. He was taking hte practice seriously. It made her want to as well.

"See, you get it!" She rang brightly. He had lifted his eyes from his feet after a few minutes, a sign that he was growing comfortable with the box movement and counting. "You become master with no time. Is—OOoch-ch-ch.."

The sudden crush of her toes had made her release the rest of her breath is a stuttering hissing pang of pain. She had pulled her foot back and dropped to a crouch just as Aaron had jumped back, hands diving to press at the top of her foot. If there was anything she was not, it was hardy. The girl could be a mighty force on the chess board, but was at chronic risk of being blown over by a breeze. Fortunately, it didn't look like any harm had been done. The pain was gone almost as fast as it was gone and no amount of massaging the top of her foot with the heel of her hand elicited any discomfort.

"Is fine!" She nodded, springing back up to her feet. "No big pain." Her assurance was delivered with a reassuring smile, and she put her arms back into box formation. "Again, yes? You not to.. ehm... not to make hurt on friend foot at dance. Again practice. Who is friend? Is pretty girl you to want kiss?"

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iNPC Greta Fransson (@Evelynn Decipio)