A Special Note
The Headmaster's Office
Meris stood there, staring at the large ugly gargoyle which she understood lead to the headmaster's office. In her hand was a blotchy scroll with a drawing on it and some writing. She'd even taken the time to put a ribbon around it, ribbon which matched the ribbon she tied round the bottom of her long braids. It was rather frayed looking, as it was very well worn.
It had been a rather weird year already and she didn't understand why the doorways didn't all have normal doors. She'd heard rumor of a room that changed into what you needed, but, she had no clue where that room was or if the rumor was actually true. She knew this was the way to the headmaster's office. She'd looked it up in the library. She just did not understand exactly how it lead to his office.
After a moment of frustration she tucked the scroll into her robes and began to examine the gargoyle. There were no hidden levers, no magic buttons, she even tried waving her wand around. Nothing happened. She spoke out loud to herself, asking questions like, "I wonder if this will work? No that's rubbish, but maybe this?" And so on and so forth until she'd been examining that dumb ugly gargoyle for more than two hours.
Finally in frustration she yelled, "Hello, Headmaster?! I have something for you."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the scroll which was now not only smeared with blots of ink but smashed as well. The ribbon faithfully clung to the paper though and was in no danger of coming loose.
She stood there waiting, expectantly.
Meris stood there, staring at the large ugly gargoyle which she understood lead to the headmaster's office. In her hand was a blotchy scroll with a drawing on it and some writing. She'd even taken the time to put a ribbon around it, ribbon which matched the ribbon she tied round the bottom of her long braids. It was rather frayed looking, as it was very well worn.
It had been a rather weird year already and she didn't understand why the doorways didn't all have normal doors. She'd heard rumor of a room that changed into what you needed, but, she had no clue where that room was or if the rumor was actually true. She knew this was the way to the headmaster's office. She'd looked it up in the library. She just did not understand exactly how it lead to his office.
After a moment of frustration she tucked the scroll into her robes and began to examine the gargoyle. There were no hidden levers, no magic buttons, she even tried waving her wand around. Nothing happened. She spoke out loud to herself, asking questions like, "I wonder if this will work? No that's rubbish, but maybe this?" And so on and so forth until she'd been examining that dumb ugly gargoyle for more than two hours.
Finally in frustration she yelled, "Hello, Headmaster?! I have something for you."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the scroll which was now not only smeared with blots of ink but smashed as well. The ribbon faithfully clung to the paper though and was in no danger of coming loose.
She stood there waiting, expectantly.
Last edited by Opeila Winters on 2 Mar 2023, 07:19, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: Changed Topic to RP ;)
A Special Note
Solomon was experiencing... a day.
The Slytherin students seemed excited by all of the wrong things. A little den of sociopath wanna-bes that think they are the next dark lord in waiting. It was almost a cliché with the group that had so much edge, they were giving themselves papercuts. How the basement became a bunch of kids that shopped at hot topic and a private catholic school was beyond him. He was putting out fires there (some literal) and dealing with an unfortunate case of food poisoning (well, not 'poison' as much as a very upset gut) because he accepted some snacks from a Hufflepuff that had baked him a treat and might have confused salt and sugar or one powder for another. It was inedible sadly and left him with an unscheduled visit to the medical wing.
He was back in his office doing the main bulk of his job - paperwork. It was an endless procession of typeface and hand written script. The pile seemed self-refreshing and he got the most work done in silent monotony. A peace that was sullied by the abrupt yet muffled cry of a student-- "Hello, Headmaster?! I have something for you."
What, he did not know but the voice did not give him the same unease that other voices might. There was a lingering trauma still from the crying closet. Those voices were coarse and hard, this was tiny and dissonant.
"Chocoball," he announced and the door swung open.
The office itself was not much to speak of, a cavernous space, the air cool and dry. The walls were bare as were the tables and shelves that lined the edges of this unadorned room. There was ample enough seating, some along the walls and a pair before the large desk at the heart of the room. The desk was the only part of the room that appeared to have regular use, papers and books, quills and ink wells. The headmaster himself sitting in a high-backed chair that seemed a bit too small for the large man seated there clad in armor. A bit of an eccentric it would seem in that regard, he was rumored to never remove it, a partial truth because he did have to sleep and shower. "Hey there, come on in."
The Slytherin students seemed excited by all of the wrong things. A little den of sociopath wanna-bes that think they are the next dark lord in waiting. It was almost a cliché with the group that had so much edge, they were giving themselves papercuts. How the basement became a bunch of kids that shopped at hot topic and a private catholic school was beyond him. He was putting out fires there (some literal) and dealing with an unfortunate case of food poisoning (well, not 'poison' as much as a very upset gut) because he accepted some snacks from a Hufflepuff that had baked him a treat and might have confused salt and sugar or one powder for another. It was inedible sadly and left him with an unscheduled visit to the medical wing.
He was back in his office doing the main bulk of his job - paperwork. It was an endless procession of typeface and hand written script. The pile seemed self-refreshing and he got the most work done in silent monotony. A peace that was sullied by the abrupt yet muffled cry of a student-- "Hello, Headmaster?! I have something for you."
What, he did not know but the voice did not give him the same unease that other voices might. There was a lingering trauma still from the crying closet. Those voices were coarse and hard, this was tiny and dissonant.
"Chocoball," he announced and the door swung open.
The office itself was not much to speak of, a cavernous space, the air cool and dry. The walls were bare as were the tables and shelves that lined the edges of this unadorned room. There was ample enough seating, some along the walls and a pair before the large desk at the heart of the room. The desk was the only part of the room that appeared to have regular use, papers and books, quills and ink wells. The headmaster himself sitting in a high-backed chair that seemed a bit too small for the large man seated there clad in armor. A bit of an eccentric it would seem in that regard, he was rumored to never remove it, a partial truth because he did have to sleep and shower. "Hey there, come on in."
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.