16 Mar 2022, 22:52
Name Five Things...
@Freya Sterling | March 16th, 5 pm
Having an afternoon without homework to do was rare as gold when getting older, that was a lesson Opeila had certainly learned in almost three years at Hogwarts and she appreciated this Wednesday afternoon a lot. The third year intended to make use of the free time, even though it was a use probably not everyone would understand.
Opeila had her first vision in two years in the last holidays and it had been terrifying. Enlightening, but terrifying. Not terrifying enough to stop her from trying to repeat the experience though, that much was clear.
After class, she put on some comfortable clothes and opened her braid, before she went to the library. Opeila had picked the place carefully. The library wasn't exactly abandoned, but there were many corners where people wouldn't go really. And the atmosphere just seemed... right.
Loras didn't enjoy being left behind very much, but that was something he would have to live with. Opeila had learned to love her cat, but that didn't mean she would spoil him or jump at his every wish. No way. So she went on her own, into a more quiet corner of the library, relatively well hidden by shelves.
Then she hopped onto one of the tables and crossed her legs. So what now? She hadn't thought it through that well really, she just hoped that if she could focus her mind, that perhaps... Well, who knew?
Opeila closed her eyes and took a deep breath, counted to seven and exhaled again. She repeated that five times. Alright. Now, five things she could hear. Opeila frowned, focusing. There were two girls whispering and giggling. And... that was a book falling on the ground, pretty sure. There, a page being turned. And... wait, were those footsteps?
18 Mar 2022, 21:03
Name Five Things...
⊰⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅☽◎☾⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⊱
⊰⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅☽◎☾⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⑅⊱
[font=book antiqua]With more of her first year at Hogwarts behind her than was left ahead, Freya had the feeling that the year was rushing by in a blur of homework and classes, and that nothing terribly remarkable had happened yet. The impending visit from the other wizarding schools inched nearer, and that was exciting to look forward to, she supposed, but otherwise, her year had been quite… well, mundane. She arrived at that conclusion just as her feet brought her to the threshold of the cavernous library. It was, of late, her first stop directly after classes were done so she could get as much of her homework out of the way before dinner as she could, so the slight girl was still dressed in her robes, as tidy in appearance as when she’d left her dorm that morning.
Stifling a yawn at the thick air and sleepy quiet that greeted her inside the doors, Freya hitched her leather satchel up her shoulder and considered which of the day’s homework assignments required the most work, so she could focus her energy there. History, she decided, and cut across a row of sparsely populated tables towards the bank of shelves she knew would hold the reference material she needed.
Setting her bag down on an empty desk alcove, Freya sniffled briefly at the plume of dust motes that puffed up into the sunlight from the window above and shook her head to avoid breaking the silence of the library with a sneeze. Shrugging off her black robe and loosening her tie, she spent a moment unpacking her things onto the desk before leaving them to search the shelves.
Gargoyle Riots… not the most the most scintillating subject matter, but Freya liked history and she supposed it couldn’t all be battles and heroic feats of magic. Her mind occupied with the image of stone statues coming to life and doing battle, Freya rounded a wedge of tall shelves and almost walked directly into the edge of a table. On instinct, she hauled herself up and sidestepped the unforeseen obstacle with uncanny grace before composing herself with a look of relief. When she looked up again to check where she’d ended up, she found herself stifling a gasp of surprise.
In front of Freya, seated cross-legged atop the table she’d almost run into, sat a dark-haired girl with closed eyes and an intently focused expression. Freya’s mind struggled to make sense of the unusual sight before her, and she gaped wordlessly for an awkward moment. The other girl looked older than Freya, and that fact alone left her unsure how to proceed. Who in Merlin’s name was she to question to habits and particularities of her upperclassmen? What if it was some sort of homework assignment, and she was rudely interrupting?
Wavering hesitantly, unsure if the girl even knew she’d been come upon and whether to speak, Freya let out a sigh at her million-mile-an-hour thoughts and took a deep breath to rebalance herself.
“Pardon me for interrupting…” Freya spoke up, her voice low as not to break library rules. “But, erm… are you alright?”
What exactly she would do if the girl said she wasn’t, in fact, alright, Freya wasn’t certain yet. But it seemed improper not to ask...
@opeila winters | 546 words[/font]
19 May 2022, 23:16
Name Five Things...
@Freya Sterling
Footsteps, definitely footsteps. They were coming closer and closer and... Opeila could hear the person come around the corner, their clothes were rustling nearby, but she decided not to follow her first impulse to open her eyes. She would simply keep listening. The Slytherin didn't need her seer powers to be certain that the person would address her in a moment and she wasn't sure yet how she would answer. Or if she would at all.
Now there was a gasp. Was that directed at Opeila? Perhaps the person- a child by the sounds of it- had not seen her until just now, after all the third year was really not making a sound. One second later the kid, a girl, spoke up, asking Opeila if she was alright. An understandable question, what Opeila was doing had to look odd to anyone who walked by, the most to a kid who was still rather new at Hogwarts. "Mhm. Just fine.", she responded calmly, not breaking her focus, "I am... I guess it is some sort of meditation I'm trying."
Opeila wasn't even sure why she was explaining herself. Perhaps it was this feeling of embarrassment she couldn't suppress, the wish not to be seen as awkward or peculiar. Well, maybe it was a bit late for that now, but that didn't change her feelings.