Errand Knitting Night

@Alan Vanes

Piérre really liked Alan as a Prefect. Though he hadn’t exactly been buddy-buddy with the Gryffindor Chaser, Piérre remembered the game that had happened only a few months ago; when he had been saved by and shared a broom with the fourth year. They had been quite the duo, and though Piérre had quickly realized that Alan was perhaps slightly intimidated by Piérre’s hyperactiveness, that did not prevent the Britalian from being his outgoing and confident self.

Another reason Piérre liked Alan was because the of the awesome ideas that he came up with. Like, seriously, writing letter to the staff was a great idea! Imagine how much they go through with all the stupidity of kids on a daily basis. They deserved to know how much they were appreciated. And this, this errand? Piérre was all over it.

Ever since he was old enough to know his way around a knitting needles, sewing thread, and crochet, Piérre had eagerly been modifying and altering his own clothes. In fact, most of his wardrobe were compiled of either modified articles or self-made socks, scarves, hats, and mittens.

Reducio

Rolled d4 to Determine House Color for the Day:

1- Hufflepuff
2- Ravenclaw
3- Gryffindor
4- Slytherin

Number Rolled: 1
Hufflepuff

Such was the case with the outfit that he wore today. Though his black and yellow striped blazer was something that he had bought, the yellow and black knit scarf was something that he had made, lovingly crafted during classes whenever he had the time to spare. (Yeah, he kind of carried needles around to knit under the desk during lectures out of boredom...)

But anyways, onto the errand itself! The only two scarves that he was missing in his collection was a Gryffindor scarf and a Slytherin scarf. (He had a Ravenclaw one too, which had been slightly burned due to a miscasted fire spell. Fortunately, though, he had managed to knit a new one over the summer.)This was an excellent opportunity to keep plugging away at his collection, by knitting a green and silver scarf!

But first, Piérre just had to rush up to Alan and say hello. He appeared to be the first one there, and so Piérre, garbed in Hufflepuff glory, sprinted across the Great Hall, making a beeline for the Slytherin table. ”Hi Alan! How are ya?!” The excited kid bounced up and down, grinning like an idiot and allowing his eyes to feast upon the assortment of vividly colored yarn. He was sure that there had to be greens and silver in there someplace... maybe a metallic silver if he was especially lucky!

“I’ve loved both your errands so far! I mean, they’re so wholesome!” He gushed, swaying back and forth. “So, like, how does it feel to be a Prefect? You enjoying yourself?” As he spoke, Piérre would slip his satchel onto the table, taking a seat and kicking his feet as he withdrew a pair of knitting needles, plain gold, functional and non very flashy... but they would do well enough for the task at hand.

514 words

She ought to be crazy. Has she eaten anything weird before this? If not, then what on earth has possessed her to be here then? Standing by the door, while watching the table of the snakes filled with what she can described as 'a colorful mayhem'.

Arissa merely shook her head as she makes her way to the Slytherin table, her grey eyes slight widened at the variety of yarns and the other knitting equipments, enough supplies for the whole school. When she had come across the flyer by chance a few days ago, the blond girl merely scoffed at the idea of it, but that very flyer had haunted her for days, both in her dreams and in her thoughts. So she decided to take a look at the event. merely to fulfilled her curiosity, so that her mind would be satisfied. She would rather have her dreams filled with cakes and ice creams, which happened quite often before it was taken over by the flyers of 'Knitting Night'.

She can't say she was amused by it.

So she went to the venue of the event, and saw a handful of students were picking their equipments and yarns, under the objective of a brief tour before going back to her Common Room, but somehow, her legs had makes its way to the table, while her hands had picked a few yarn balls - red, blue and green, as she sat at the table.

'Well, there's no going back now, I suppose.'

It would be awkward if she suddenly stood up and left the hall right now, and Arissa hate it when attention were placed on her. Unwanted attention she called it. That's why she cast a rather icy glare if she sensed a glance which lasted more than five seconds directed at her. Hopefully the non-friendly gesture she threw was enough to fend off attention placed upon herself, before glancing at the equipments she picked up mere moments ago.

She had never done something handmade, such as scarves and pullovers. After all, why would she? Her family's wealthy, and she had her house elves managing every house chores, and her family. So yes, she had never done it before. But. it would be a lie if she was not interested in doing it. If her interest was not piqued the moment she landed her eyes on the flyer, then why would she be here in the first place?

Exactly. And, considering the number of yarns she picked, and the colors, it seemed like she had already made her decision.

'The blue one for mother, the red one for father, and the green one for Adrian. And myself.'

As for her grandmother, definitely not. Arissa would rather avoid having distaste marred her grandmother's face when she gave her this handmade scarf. It might resulted in an increase of her classes, which had subdued when she entered Hogwarts.

Arissa like her freedom, so no.

Listening to Professor Jensen explanation attentively, Arissa make sure to remember all the instructions needed to make a scarf, which had been her choice from the start. Grey eyes glued to the professor, making sure that she did not miss anything important. Arissa was a perfectionist, so she can't let her first work become a piece of trash in matter of seconds. She knew her parents would be touched for her efforts, and Adrian too after he was done with his teasing, but merely efforts was not enough for her. This was her first handmade gift, so at least, she'll have to make sure it was presentable.

After making sure she had enough information, Arissa started her knitting, and a frown would occasionally appeared on her face when she encounter holes in her green scarf, which needed a few minutes to get it undone. When it happened again a few more times, Arissa felt her patience dwindling, and started to shot a death glare at her projects.

"If you do not wished to get thrown in flames, I suggest you behave." She muttered under her breath, despite knowing that the problems started because of her own incompetence.

Did she know about it being her fault? Yes. Would she admit it readily? Of course not.

open to interactions | @Arissa Wright

Everly wasn't one to willingly come to social events. The young lion was quite an introvert and avoided social events unless she was forcefully dragged to them by her parents. Brown eyes made their way up the wall and spotted the flyer stuck against the wall. Knitting Night. Being the over-analyst she was, Everly's mind went to work. Pros: learn to knit, make some presents for her family. Cons: forced to talk to people, possibly embarrass herself, and probably cause a bunch of holes in her yarn. Oh well.

The eleven year old made her way into the Great Hall, her brown eyes immediately attracted to the Slytherin table, adorned with yarn and other knitting supplies. Everly's steps became slower as she pondered what she should do, and with a moment's hesitation changed her direction and made her way over to the table. The piles of yarn did little to help relieve her nerves; she still felt quite intimidated by the Prefects and professors. Everly figured this might as well be a good thing, she wasn't the best at coming up with presents either way.

Her walking speed slowed immensely as she caught on just the beginning of the Head of Slytherin's instructions on how to knit. Coming from a wizarding family, Everly had never even seen knitting needles before, much less even touched one. What was knitting, anyways? Was it some kind of Muggle pastime? How did the clinking of needles create such a thing? The mess of colorful yarn seemed to beckon to her - "pick me!" Everly let out a sign and began counting in her head. Five scarves; six including one for her. Leaf green for Asher. Soft orange for Thomas. Light purple for Amara. Blue for Father. Bright, sunflower yellow for Mother. A bright red for herself. Her hands reached out of their own accord, clutching the balls of yarn in her arms. Green, orange, purple, blue, yellow, red. What a nice variety of colors.

She turned her head upwards to gaze at the Slytherin Head of House, mentally noting her instructions. Then, the girl turned her gaze over to the table. A boy seemed to be chatting rapidly with the Gryffindor Prefect on one end, two girls were huddled together talking and knitting, and a blonde Slytherin who seemed to be glaring at her piece of yarn. Professor Jensen's words came to mind and she squinted, trying to figure out where to sit. Making a split second decision, the young Gryffindor decided to sit some ways next to the Slytherin girl on the end. She seemed intimidating, well put together, but Everly focused on the bundle of yarn in her arms. She sat down and spread the balls of yarn across the space in front of her. Her hand reached out and grasped the tightly wrapped ball of red yarn. Sorry, she mentally told the yarn, but you're going to be my test subject. I don't feel like giving Mother and Father a scarf with holes on it. Everly unwound the ball of yarn and grasped the tip of the yarn. In her other hand she clutched the needles, one in each hand. She'd listened to Professor Jensen, she could knit this scarf, right?

Everly took the bit of yarn and began to loop it around the needle. Half a minute later her needles were clacking together rhythmically. She found herself in a tight bit as she had to unwind the tangled mess she was creating several times. About ten minutes later she finally began to create some sort of tangled, red mess of a scarf.

word count: 609/800, 161 words left

Interacting with @Cassandra Ironwoods
Open to other Interactions

Starlee had seen the flyer in the Slytherin common room for an upcoming kitting night, and Starlee couldn't have been more excited. She loved to knit and after deciding that she wanted to do something a little different for her Secret Santa gift, this was the perfect opportunity to finally get her knitting needles back into action. Her mother loved to craft and had taught her everything she knew, from knitting to sewing to scrapbooking. There was no way Starlee was gonna miss out on this!

Of course, Starlee wasn't going to go alone! So she enlisted one of her good friends to join her: Cash. She had talked to Cash about the event and Starlee was more than excited to teach Cash the ways of knitting. So, they made plans to go when the day arrived.

And arrive it did! Christmas was clearly in the air around the castle; it was decorated in just about every room. Wreaths, trees, and the snowfall in the Great Hall, there was simply nothing else quite like Christmas at Hogwarts. Starlee and Cash made their way from the dungeons up into the Great Hall to find the Slytherin table filled to the brim with lots of yarn in different colors and all the knitting supplies that one would need. She excitedly ran over to the table and grabbed some light purple, olive green, and royal red yarn, planning to make three scarves: Purple for Cash, green for her mum, and red for her dad. She figured that would be quite a lot of scarves to attempt to make in one sitting, and she hoped she could keep the rest if she wasn't able to finish in time. She waited for Cash to collect everything they needed and they sat down at the table to begin listening to Professor Jensen's instructions. Starlee had really no need to listen, so she began knitting and pearling alternate rows of the purple yarn to create a more elaborate scarf with more depth. She sat silently, her needles clacking together as Professor Jenson completed the rest of her instructions for those who needed them. Once she was done, she turned to look at Cash and said, "Do you think you got all that? I can help if you still have questions! My mom taught me a little rhyme to remember..." she said with a bright smile.

Permission to godmod Cash entering approved.

Knitting Night

Tristan sauntered to the table. He’d ignored Leonard for months, disappearing from social contact,only going to class. It had been three months since he last saw Leonard because Tristan could not let sentiment in his heart. Emotions are a weakness and he could not let them affect him. But Leonard was unique, one of the few people that Tristan could call an equal. Sentiment was a weakness so he’d run away, not going to the Autumn ball, refusing to talk for three months. Now, he’d come to realize that he couldn’t stand Leonard refusing to talk to him. He was lacking mental stimulation but he knew the right thing to do. Tristan would knit Leonard a gift in time for Christmas.
He took out needles and yarn: gold and green: Slytherin, beautiful and cunning, just like Leonard.
He took the yarn wrapped the yarn on his fingers, twisted it around the needle, again and again, and again, twenty seven times using the English method.Then he started creating the stitches needed for the scarf. He decided against using the knitting charm as doing it by hand was more personal. Methodically,row by row,Tristan knitted and he entered his memory palace. Tristan hadn’t been like this before: frozen, cold, and refusing to feel. But his life would everlasting be before and after Edward. Yes, he was only eleven, but his brain was far more mature than that. He could see the worst things of a person at a single glance if he so desired after all. Edward had died because of a muggle invention and millions die because of muggle inventions.Technology was beautiful yet devastating and he understood Grindelwald in that sentiment.
The cold front that Tristan presented to the whole world was neither true or false. No one could understand him except a few people but he supposed knitting a scarf for Leonard was a true reflection of himself. If he had to describe himself, Tristan would say that he was similar to Newt Scamander, Sherlock Holmes the famous detective, or Hannibal. He cared but he could never be normal but then Leonard wasn’t normal either. He was special, burning bright like a star. He had so much potential. Yet Tristan had to leave him. He had a flair for dramatics after all.
He couldn’t get hurt again. He couldn’t.
Should he be hurt again, Tristan knew he wouldn’t survive.
The scarf was two inches long so he switched to the next color(gold).
Gold, riches, and power were what most wanted, for himself,power was guaranteed, gold was guaranteed. What Tristan wanted was to be understood. Dumbledore understood Grindelwald, John Watson understood Sherlock Holmes, Will Graham understood Hannibal, Merlin understood King Arthur, Jim Kirk understood Spock, all these muggle creations and historical figures seemed so entwined with each other. Tied in a way that he’d never felt before. Not romance, but deeper than friendship. Yet he was alone. Alone.
Leonard hadn’t replied to his owls. Tristan supposed it was his fault.After all, all conversation had been ignored by yours truly.
Switching back to green, he began to think of growth and life. He thought of the quote from Le Petit Prince,” L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux” He agreed with the statement. For the desires of his heart never were tangible but rather an idea. His namesake after all was a man from the city of Wall. Tristan desired to disappear, run from this all.
But no, he couldn’t.
Today, he feels hollow. After all, Edward died this day, two years ago. Edward was nine, and the driver felt no remorse. He curls into a fetus position in his head.There were no tears, nothing except a tightening of his heart and cold seeping through his bones.
Tristan switched back to dark green. He was emotional wasn’t he? Humorous. But it wasn’t lasting because it couldn’t be. People like him couldn’t be emotional.
He was destined to be like Snape, a loved one dead labeled as evil. He could embrace it of course. Embrace the evil, take over and become the next Dark Lord. He did quite dislike certain muggles after all.
He felt sorry for himself.
Tristan used to be a phoenix emblazoned with intelligence. Now all he was, was the dead ashes of a dying star, beautiful but cold.
Tristan then went back to gold yarn.
He hoped Leonard would accept this gift as an apology. Tristan needed this after all. Acceptance for who he was. Not the mask but what he truly was.He didn’t desire to be looked at as psychological wonder. He was human not some freak. He could deduce and observe but he wasn’t a freak. Not a freak, not a freak, freak, freak. They’d called him that for the two years before Hogwarts after his sudden change in attitude towards the world. Well at least Leonard never called him that….

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Interacting With: N/A
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Hex Color: #FF4080
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Ana had tried knitting over the summer. In the early months when she'd been grounded, she had tried a great many things, none of which she had been particularly good at. Regardless, with all that had occurred in the later weeks of summer, knitting and every other hobby she had dabbled in had been tossed to the wayside as Ana attempted to rebuild the shattered fragments of her life. Still, Ana was trying to figure things out, and anything that kept her busy and didn't involve punching others seemed an adequate distraction.

She had seen the flyers but she was still slightly awed by how many different supplies there were. She knew the basics but had managed to fail spectacularly when she had tried over the summer, so she listened intently as Professor Jensen explained. As the Slytherin head of house was speaking, she felt Jasmine rub against her leg and glanced down. She scowled at her cat slightly, since Jasmine's repeated attempts to eat the yarn was part of why Ana had had such difficulty with knitting earlier. She leaned down and rubbed Jasmine's neck affectionately, while inwardly dreading the inevitable insanity Jaz would cause. Jasmine had accompanied Ana to exactly one errand in the past, and it had involved the feline dumping a tub of soapy water all over the Gryffindor.

After receiving instructions, Ana selected a pair of knitting needles that rather resembled stakes used in vampire hunting. Next came her yarn options. Green was somehow the least appealing color at the moment, and she definitely didn't need any more Gryffindor apparel. Considering the amount she had spite purchased after her sorting and the random pieces related to Quidditch she had recently obtained until she had her next growth spurt, she was more than set for house pride. Eventually, she chose a soft light pink yarn and a silvery grey one. Pink for her favorite color, and silver as a slight homage to her family.

Glancing around, she sat near the group but opted not to speak to anyone until she got her scarf started. Casting on was simple enough and she had gotten rather good at it. Mostly because she had kept having to redo it because of her frustratedly undoing her work after a small mistake, but still. Her nimble fingers began to move without thinking until she had a row that seemed a decent width for a scarf. Now, to actually knit it.

She chewed her lip as she focused intently on her first few rows. Once she had a stripe of four rows, she switched to the silvery yarn. Tried to anyway, since she had to set her project down to wrestle it away from Jasmine, who had decided that the ball of yarn was now her house. It was surprisingly adorable, the cat's head poking out of the yarn, but spectacularly inconvenient for Ana. She coaxed the kitten out and set her in her lap. She managed to stroke Jasmine for a bit

This was going far better than her attempts at home, mostly because of the sudden lack of interference from a certain Bengal. That reminded Ana that she should probably figure out what Jasmine was up to since any time Jasmine was quiet or out of sight for any length of time, she was wreaking all manner of havoc.

Sure enough, as Ana glanced around, her hyperactive pet was nowhere to be found. Sighing slightly and setting her yarn work down, she began to look for her cat. Somehow, she doubted that Jasmine was behaving in a manner remotely becoming of a cat of her stature. Honestly, how did a cat that was allegedly so well-bred and expensive behave like such a dumpster goblin? Jasmine was snuggling and adorable, but she managed to get herself into a remarkable amount of mischief for something so small. Ana was definitely going to need to utilize the leash that she had gotten when she had first purchased Jasmine. It was apparently normal for Bengals, and seeing as Jasmine was committed to accompanying Ana near everywhere other than the Quidditch Pitch and classes, it was definitely a necessity.

Several minutes of searching revealed nothing until she saw a mound of yarn move. She crossed the room quickly, but it was too late. Jasmine had launched herself at whoever the next person to reach into the pile was. "Jasmine, stop that!" Ana huffed, wrangling her cat, who looked up at her and meowed innocently. "I apologize for her bad behavior, she seems to be adverse to allowing herself to be restrained by the constraints generally associated with anything remotely resembling courtesy." Once her cat was secure and Ana was confident that the familiar was more invested in playing with Ana's necklace than launching a follow-up attack, Ana glanced up to see who the victim had been.