Recording Equipment and a Tree Open!

@Rowan Bane

Reducio

sorry for the long post. dancing terms abound.

It was prior to the auditions for the Dance Club, and if there was something that Isaac felt, it was nerve-wracking terror.

It wasn't that he was a bad dancer, by any means. But the thought of being watched, even by two other kids, while he danced was a dizzying prospect. What if he tripped? Fell on his face? Crashed to the ground like the biggest klutz on the planet? Their eyes would scan his every move with critical thoughts, studying him like an insect trapped beneath a magnifying glass. And for a boy who was embarrassed to even dance in the first place, it was a nauseating idea to even join a team for dancing. The question was, why had he signed up?

He told himself it was because he wanted a challenge. Really, he was curious who else would be there, and maybe even a little part of him loved dancing too. But he'd never acknowledge it.

So he chose the rehearsal room to practice. The silence of the room at this morning hour was soothing. Gently, he slipped off his robes before bending down to strap on his slippers. At the moment, he only wore a simple white tank top and black shorts, choosing to save his slacks for the actual audition.

To help himself relax, he began to play Sonata 8, listening to the notes filling the air. With that, he started to warm-up with some simple leaps, springing up before landing on his toes. Then, a single leg releve, where he turned out position on his left foot and lightly balanced on it.

A brief warm-up later, and he decided to tackle pirouettes. Isaac knew he had a weakness for those, and slipped often during the leaping portion. With determination, he would get this right.

Going into fourth position with his feet crossed, he carefully did a plie, placing one foot near the other leg's knee. Then, it was time for the twirl.

But then, it all went wrong.

A sudden rolling broke his reverie of music and dance, and in startled surprise, he went completely unbalanced when twirling, falling straight onto his face. It flared up in pain, and he lay on his side - humiliation burning inside of him as whomever this was saw him on the ground, looking like a complete and absolute fool.

Annnd he had just walked in and already there was chaos. Rowan yelped softly as he saw the male fall and nearly tumble into him. Tripod, the three legged beastie, bless him, had to jump out of the way to not get crushed. Whatever music had been playing beforehand in the hall, was gorgeous, but hell, this was... eh.. less that that.

Though the kid still was trying his best. Rowan couldn't walk, much less dance like that anymore, so he really couldn't judge that much. Though that fall looked like it hurt.

"Ooo..." He said softly, flinching a little. "Are you alright? That looked like it hurt quite a bit..."

Tripod walked over to Isaac, sniffing at the fallen lad.

"C'mon, get up. Are you bleeding? That looked like it warranted a broken nose. Let's make sure it isn't. Broken, that is."

Honestly, he wasn't judging. He was broken himself. Maybe that would comfort the child, who knew. Maybe it would make him feel worse. That was also an option. Less trusting. Or the last option is that the kid would recognise him from his still present popularity, that had again flared up because he had tripod now, a kitty with one missing leg. Frickin wizards, never seen anyone with a disability. 

@Rowan Bane

"Ughhh..." he groaned quietly, touching his face. This was really, really bad. Nothing was terribly broken, nor did he get too bruised up. But when he brought his fingertips away from his face, they were dotted with speckles of blood. Wiping his face again, Isaac found a trickle of blood coming from his nose, and tried to stem the bleeding, putting his hand over it.

A mellow voice broke through the pain, tinged with worry. "Are you alright? That looked like it hurt quite a bit..."

"I'm fine," he replied, stubbornly trying not to show that it hurt him a lot. His pride felt more bruised than anything. Pulling himself to a sitting position, he felt a slight tickle near his legs. Looking down, he was surprised to see a small cat sniffing him. The fluffy grey-and-white Siberian let out a tiny mew, and despite the disaster, he couldn't help but feel a stirring of warmth in his heart.

He did note that the cat had three legs, but was still too distracted by its innocence to ponder it. With a gentle finger, he tried to tickle the kitty beneath the chin. Memories of his own cat came back to him, of idle afternoons spent lounging alongside the old tabby, and rainy nights of comfort.

It was then he realized again that there was someone else in the room.

"C'mon, get up. Are you bleeding? That looked like it warranted a broken nose. Let's make sure it isn't. Broken, that is."

"I'm not bleeding too much," he insisted as he got to his feet. Isaac cast a longing glance towards his robes, ears burning with embarrassment. He'd have to wait a bit before fleeing the scene.

Wiping the trickle of blood beneath his nose again with a finger, he examined the stranger with a fair amount of curiosity. From his soft but certain tone, Isaac guessed that he had quite a bit of experience with bad situations, healing - or both. The most obvious article of note was his wheelchair, an uncommon implement in Hogwarts. Why it was so rare was beyond him. Maybe magic had something to do with it.

For certain, he didn't recognize this kid. But that was normal by now. He'd resigned himself to the fact that it was impossible to know everyone.

Sadly, he realized that the boy probably had looked forwards to being in the Rehearsal Room. And his stupid performance had ruined it.

"Look at me." 

Tripod jumped up onto Rowan's chair before Isaac could really touch him, like he usually did, curling up on the arm of his chair, looking up at the injured male. His balance was surprisingly good. 

He hesitantly put his hands on the male's face, touching his nose for a second, before deeming it was sufficiently not broken, just probably bruised. Rowan pulled back once more, turning to get into his bag, which was hanging on the back of his chair. 

"Head forward. Don't tilt it back. I'll get you a tissue. You should really practice with mats down you know, or you should at least learn how to fall." 

He didn't mean to be criticising, but y'know, he could have hurt himself worse. Bloody second person he would have to get to the infirmary from the rehearsal room alone. Not that he minded, he liked doing this work, but still, he worried how little these children were safety conscious. Worried how little they could care for themselves. 

Well, scratch that, most muggle borns were fine. But Purebloods? And even half bloods. Anyone who grew up under magical parents, really. Either way it was concerning.

Millie was positively, most unconcernedly confused.

She had been able to walk away from most things with her head held high, and her brain spewing Serotonin like there was nothing else to be done. However, leaving the Great Hall made Millie feel only more confused.  She had been able to see some of her few friends, and still felt confused as ever. She had been able to misinterpret her friends, and was afraid that it had cost her something more important than studying.

Millie was scared she had lost a friendship.

The only way Millie knew she could feel safe, was when she was in the safety blanket of her music. She skived off eating, and walked up to the Gryffindor common room. Millie grabbed her ukulele case and walked back down to one room where she was nearly certain she couldn't be disrupted; the Rehearsal Room.

Millie felt nervous, carrying her small ukulele case down to the fourth floor, catching the eyes of the majority of her fellow students. But she still felt weird, as there wasn't any rehearsing going on. Millie just had to stay as strong as she could.

Finally reaching the fourth floor, Millie felt slightly more cheerful, as most students had disappeared to the Grounds or to their common rooms. Or even some to classes. Millie finally let her breath out when she reached her destination.

Only to find two other boys there.

They seemed to be in her year, but she hadn't recognized either of them. She knew they were in her house, as she had seen both of them in the common room, but that was it. Millie had barely any recognition with them, and she bit her lip nervously. For all that was holy, Millie just wanted to play her damn ukulele!

Something new caught her eye- blood. One of the boys- the one who wasn't in a wheelchair- nose's was bleeding. Millie clutched her case closer to her leg, and took in a deep breath. But nothing could control her anxiety setting in. But there was nothing else Millie could do. She stepped into the room.

Her breath halted, but Millie remembered what had caught her eye.

"Are you both alright?" Millie let her voice echo through the room. The only thing that differentiated her voice was the American and British accent, foiled together to make a mess of a voice.

@Rowan Bane | @Euphrasia Millie

Isaac instinctively flinched as Rowan's hands came to briefly rest upon his face, scanning his features for the extent of the damage. The uncertainty of touch put him on edge. Behind every touch was the dual-edged promise of help or hurt. Many times a soft grip on his face had morphed into a hard pull or a slap. It was ridiculous, he was sure that the boy wasn't going to harm him. But the unpleasant emotion wormed inside of him regardless, making him pull away quickly.

"Head forward. Don't tilt it back. I'll get you a tissue. You should really practice with mats down you know, or you should at least learn how to fall."

His ears burned at the comment, and he felt the strong urge to retort - it wasn't that bad anyway, and he didn't need mats like a beginner. Quietly, he muttered to himself, "How do you learn to fall anyway? Don't you just fall?"

Otherwise he held his tongue, instead choosing to observe Rowan was he went to get his bag. Presumably, he kept all of his health materials in there, and it might've even doubled as a rucksack for school. Ruefully, he cast a glance at Tripod, unhappy that he didn't get to pet the cat. Well, there was always next time.

It was just then that a newcomer traipsed into the room. A ukulele was clutched in the short-haired girl's fingers, and the way she stood was awkward and nervous, as if she were uncertain whether or not she should be there.

"Are you both alright?"

Her accent was different, a blend of hard 'r's and soft ones, quiet but discordant. Before she could say anything else, he insisted, "Everything's fine." Nothing to see here.

It wasn't an appealing prospect informing her about the disgraceful fall. So he didn't.

The boy insisted everything was fine, but somehow, Millie knew better. She knew when lies and truths were mixed together, and how to tell the difference. Some people called it a curse, or a blessing, and others called it a psychological defect. She knew differently. After being lied to for her whole life, Millie had learned to understand when people were, and weren't lying. And now, was just one of those times.

However, being polite was key, and in a situation where Millie wanted to learn more, she had to keep her cool. While it wasn't the easiest, she managed to keep down her anxiety and confusion, and take a deeper step in the room.

The ukulele case clutched tightly beneath her fingers, seemed to wobble unenthusiastically as Millie let her nerves blast up. She still felt slightly fearful as she got a tiny bit closer look. The boy who had spoke, and had had the blood, had looked different up close. He had (very) curly dark hair, and blue eyes. Or, his eyes had appeared more grey now that Millie was seeing him up close. They still were very interesting, blue or grey.

The second boy, who had a cat with him, looked the same upon further examination. Same hair, same eyes, but he still looked different. Could it have been the poor lighting, or did Millie really need some glasses? The latter, most likely.

"What were you both doing here, might I ask?" Her voicing of confidence trickled over the room, and before long, Millie suddenly flinched. Her own voice had sounded very rushing and forward, and she disliked it very much so. 

"You don't have to answer, if you don't want. I don't want to seem blunt or anything." Her voice had suddenly lost the very British accent. How American just was she?

@Euphrasia Millie | mention: @Rowan Bane

His face burned. Isaac quickly realized that despite his reluctance to speak on the subject, it was obvious enough anyways what he was up to. Staring down at his black slippered feet and the cloth of his white shirt, he sighed.

"I was dancing, not like it matters." he added defensively. It was still a terrible source of embarrassment to mention his dancing to anyone, let alone a newcomer who had happened to stumble upon him in the act. It was enough that Rowan was critical.

He wasn't a boy known for his grace. Or the kind who was so soft and so kind, that others could imagine him doing something as weird as ballet. It was weird. What kind of boy enjoyed ballet? There was something very wrong with it, doing a dance meant for tutus and frills.

Huffing, he sniffed up more blood. He could feel the girl's dark eyes examining him, lightly going over his appearance. Matching her curiosity, he looked back at her.

She was part-British and perhaps, part-American, with dark brown hair, full lips and black-almond shaped eyes. Her voice and attitude were dizzying, torn between confidence and indecision. A part of him wanted to ask her about her past, but he figured that it would add to the list of people who thought he was rude.

But the ukulele was different.

"You can use the Rehearsal Room, if you want." he offered. Sure, it was a bit filled, but there was space for her to practice. He hoped that her laser attention would no longer be fixed on whatever happened before.