Unexpected Discoveries PV Dove Cullen Closed

The girl finds her alone time being interrupted by someone she doesn't speak to often. She had heard the footsteps leading up to the question, and initially thought it was just a passer-by. Apparently not. Sinclair was a little surprised that someone would even talk to her, as she did not think that sitting next to a bench by the lake would be inviting for an interaction.

However, a question was asked, and she shall answer. "A fish of sorts," Sinclair answers neutrally. Her tone wasn't friendly in particular, nor was it cold. Just...straight to the point. She turns to glance at the girl, small in stature with long black hair... She's seen her face around school. Dove, wasn't it? Sinclair didn't know too much about her apart from that she was a ravenclaw, and so her impression of her was simply neutral. The gryffindor however, was the type to keep to herself, not particularly interested in engaging in whatever drama that may arise from students- most often somewhat detached, and incredibly selective about the company she keeps. And so, after answering, she turned her focus back to her wood craft, thinking that her answer would satisfy her classmate's brief curiosity and that was that.

She was not expecting the girl to sit down. Nor to proceed to take out a book and read- at least, that's what it sounded like from the faint rustle of paper behind her. After a while, she just figures this girl was here to do the same as she was- just to enjoy some quiet next to the lake.

Sinclair presses the blade against the wood and starts to carve. There's quite a lot to shave down, so she focuses on making the block of wood somewhat rounder first. Most wood shavings neatly fall into the cauldron, and as for the strays she picks them from her clothes and tosses them inside in intervals. For a few minutes, it is only the sound of paper, wood carving, and the light rippling of the lake.

Then, the question came. Sinclair's hands pause as she was about to cut into the wood, instead brushing her hair back with her fingers so it was out of her eyes. She knew, or rather assumed this girl's name, but since her own wasn't known she thought it would be better to ask in return. She turns back, polite, "Sinclair Carver. And you by chance are...?"

Sinclair lightly nods, making note of the name. She turns back to her carving, "Not many people care to approach me." Even if she did not show it, Sinclair was just a bit wary that someone would approach her. To her, it's a little out of the blue that someone would think of her presence at the lake as inviting. Her past before Hogwarts had only proven to her that it's better to keep out of the way and be unseen. So far she has not seen herself as approachable, and did not intend to give off that impression either. Attention was just...exhausting, and so the tween preferred to adhere to her somewhat aloof demeanour. She'd often keep to herself, yet wouldn't be afraid to speak up or take things into her own hands, seemingly not very bothered by the world around her. However... she did come to the lake to be alone. Despite all this, her manner of speech and mannerisms seem casual. There is a certain openness in her words- just enough to show an underlying curiosity as the blade shaves the basswood with ease, the fibres breaking with a subtle squeak with every cut.

The earthy ground smells wonderful in this slightly foggy setting, and the grass, though damp from humidity, feels warm and cushions her.

She pauses her carving and turns to observe Dove, her tone neutral and slightly inquisitive, "Is there a reason you're here? Just curious."

She smiles lightly, perhaps out of brief politeness. The current weather is quite nice- an overcast sky with the grass smelling damp. To Sinclair, days like this sitting out by the lake was incredibly peaceful. And even if it started to drizzle, she may find it hard to move indoors. Sinclair notes the gentle sound of the book being closed and put down. Contradictory to what was said, has the girl decided to stop reading after all? The Gryffindor continues to shave the piece of wood in thought after a brief glance at Dove behind her and the book on her lap. The subtle squeak of metal against wood continues, shavings collecting in the cauldron with barely any sound. A breeze rustles the leaves on the nearby tree, and in the distance two crows playfully jump about in the grass with their beaks open.

"Am I distracting you from your reading?" Sinclair turns to her in question, her lips just the slightest bit curled, with eyes that seemed to watch Dove knowingly. However what Sinclair actually knew or did not know was unknown. A sudden, loud cawing of crows erupts in their playful squabble, followed by the beating of wings and silence. Sinclair only briefly turns her gaze towards the sound before returning to Dove's face.