20 Jul 2020, 03:51
𓊆 into the snake pit 𓊇
Reducioapproaching the tent, silver and green silk curtains part to reveal an intricate dwelling that betrays the simplistic design of the tent's outward appearance. rugs of many origins and designs are scattered across the ground as a makeshift floor. plush cushions with velvet surfaces stand with their backs against the decorated walls, serving as a welcomed respite for exhausted students. in the middle of the tent lies a circular table where the students gather for meals or when the centerpiece and fine china is placed aside, a place to exchange secrets or dabble in card games. floating candles and lanterns provide adequate lighting but can easily be charmed to dim when the top of the tent is opened up for the curious witch or wizard to examine the night sky. spacious enough for each student to personalize their own space, the tent is a mixture of flavours brought to the table by its inhabitants. despite being called the snake pit by the tent's resident slytherins, green isn't the only colour to grace the tent with its presence. glimpses of crimson, gold, and sapphire can be seen in the furniture, decorations, and trinkets. equipped with a toasty warm fireplace and entertainment of all sorts, boredom ceases to exist within the walls of the tent. drama? that's a whole different story. there will be laughter, tears, and sharing of secrets that won't be kept.
word count: 232
interested in filling up a spot on our cast list? send me an owl with a gif (or picture) of your character, along with a fun nickname! don't let the name snake pit fool you, all houses are welcome to reside in our tent. spots currently open: 8/10
Last edited by Icarus Sable on 22 Jul 2020, 14:50, edited 4 times in total.
20 Jul 2020, 12:22
𓊆 into the snake pit 𓊇
The second year Slytherin irritably batted at the curtain entrance that had gotten caught on one of the many cacti tucked safely in the crook of one arm while the other flailed to knock the curtain free of the spiny trap it found itself in. Once the cacti and curtain were untangled from each other, Icarus inspected the damage done to the cactus, fussing over a single spine that had been a victim of the "attack" and was bent. Like a worried mother hen, Icarus laid the rest of the cacti on the trunk he had tossed to the ground to care for his wounded child. With careful inspection of the repaired spine, the Slytherin mustered enough restraint to not to curse out the curtain, sparing its inanimate feelings as he pushed past it to enter the tent. The inside of the tent was spacious, a paradigm shift from the more modest appearance on the outside. Not wanting to muddy up the intricate rugs that lined the ground, Icarus shed his black wing-tip shoes to reveal dark green argyle socks. Bringing a hand to his chin in thought, hazel eyes narrowed as he inspected the beds with as much scrutiny as a sommelier with his wine.
Choosing a bed towards the back of the tent, Icarus dragged his trunk across the carpets, grumbling to himself as the occasional corner caught the end of his trunk, yanking him back. Upon reaching the bed, the boy laid the trunk against the floor and gave his arms a much needed rest. Each plant that was previously nestled in his arm found its place on the shelving right above the bed's headboard, save for the littlest one who was situated on the oak desk perpendicular to the bed. Finally, it was time to unpack the ungodly mess of clothes and trinkets that had once been neatly stacked, but had gotten jumbled on the train. Cringing to himself, Icarus reluctantly lifted the latches and was immediately attacked by a sweater vest that had sprung up from the sea of clothes, free from its pressurized trap. After freeing his face from the tangled arms of the sweater vest, the Slytherin sat down on the carpet flooring to try to find order amongst chaos of the trunk.
It was at least half an hour before Icarus was finished tackling the seemingly unending mountain of clothes. Every sweater vest and every sock found their place in the bureau, colour-coordinated and stacked neatly once more. Upon the desk were several trinkets, including but certainly not limited to a dried, pressed rose and an origami crane that scattered the surface. In the drawer was a diary...er, journal, as Icarus insisted, and a gold-tipped pen with the feather of a swan that laid on the journal's surface. Surrounded by his dear plants and belongings, Icarus found peace in knowing that the tent was more like a home and less like a prison, albeit a very glamourous one.
The lanky boy fell back against the bed in exhaustion, finding comfort within the velvet blankets and soft cushions that broke his fall. The train ride was nothing short of exhausting and Icarus had hardly a wink of sleep in three days. Mhm, maybe I can sneak in a snooze before the others arrive. The Slytherin mused to himself as his eyelids grew heavy, his vision blurred with sleep. As much as he tried to fight off slumber, it soon caught up to him.
During his short nap, Icarus had flipped over onto his stomach with his cheek buried into the emerald pillow, his lips parted to allow his snores to escape his throat in raspy breaths. It wasn't until he heard the thump of a trunk outside the tent that the boy drifted into reality and left his pleasant dreams behind for a noisy quidditch field. A harsh reality indeed. Icarus forced himself to sit up and wipe the drool from his chin with disgust, hoping whoever had interrupted his nap hadn't seen him in such a disheveled state. The bright lights of the quidditch field obscured any fine details of the person who stood in the tent's entrance, leaving Icarus without the faintest idea who was now fumbling with their trunk. With curiosity chasing away the weariness he felt before, Icarus quirked a thick brow in interest, leaning forward with a slight squint of the eyes to better see his new tent-mate.