5 Apr 2025, 03:09
Am I Doing This Right?
☽⦙ Date | 8 February, 2025 ⦙☾
☽⦙ Thread With | @Draven Mirador ⦙☾
☽⦙ Hex Code | #810B2D ⦙☾
Dori had spent their week doing a lot of research. They honestly weren't sure what was the right thing to do was. Part of them wanted to tell an adult, but didn't know if that would get Draven in more trouble. And honestly the other part of them didn't want to throw a student genuinely asking for help to the wolves, or in this case- the Professors or Head of Houses.⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛
So, they did what they did well, and that was research. They went through their potions, spells, briefly thought about owling their parents to send them nicotine patches- but had no idea how to word that without them demanding an explanation.
This was how they ended up in the courtyard, no detention planned, with a bag full of calming and sleeping draught and some very nice teas for him. It was the best they could do, especially since the draught of peace was a 7th year potion and they had no way to acquire that right now.
They were sitting on a bench near the area where they had found Draven earlier this week. They were wearing a set of casual clothes, simple jeans, jacket, and some boots since Scotland was still cold as hell in February. Why- didn't they tell him to meet them in a warm place inside? One of their worse ideas, truly, especially since they weren't giving a detention at this point.
When Dori saw Draven approaching, they'd smile gently and wave. "Hey Draven. How are you feeling?"⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛ ⁛
"I don't know whether to cry or scream or do both. It feels like I've done more than enough of both. And it feels like I haven't done enough." - Mason Deaver
Stamina 12 ∴ Evasion 12 ∴ Strength 5 ∴ Wisdom 12 ∵ ArcPower 10 ∵ Accuracy 15
Stamina 12 ∴ Evasion 12 ∴ Strength 5 ∴ Wisdom 12 ∵ ArcPower 10 ∵ Accuracy 15
29 Apr 2025, 04:31
Am I Doing This Right?
A thin, bloodied line sat atop Draven's cheek. It followed a diagonal path, stopping at his chin and hooking underneath -the remnants of an unsuccessful morning. Or rather....a somewhat successful morning. Most of the hair on his face was gone, the only whisps hanging on for dear life stopping right at the corner of his jaw.
Draven caught a glimpse of himself in one of the tall courtyard windows. Muck and weather had glazed it gray, but the glass shining underneath was reflective enough to reveal him. And there he was.
Tall. Thin. Awkward. His freckles had nearly vanished over the winter, retreating across his cheeks and nose. The thick hoodie hid most of his frame.
His fingers travelled absentmindedly over it now. Bigger than life itself with the words 'YOU WOULDN'T DOWNLOAD A CAR' stamped on the back in a strange, raggedy font. It had kept him warm all winter. After his lil adventure outside of Honeydukes, Draven had learned to dress for the weather. Even if it meant spending a little extra money at a muggle thrift store.
He'd gotten...crafty. A few of the younger muggleborns had brought muggle money with them for whatever reason. And they were more than willing to part with it in exchange for sickles and galleons. With a little bit of flattery and a lot of sweetness, Draven had managed to scrounge up the twenty-five dollars for it, and another ten to replace the broken zipper.
His eyes still burned at the memory of sitting haunched over the damn hoodie, taking out the seams in the zipper one by one.
Returning his gaze to the courtyard, Draven's eyes passed over Dorion. The prefect was sitting on one of the stone benches, a voluminous bag pressed against their leg as they waited.
A butterfly fluttered within Draven's chest, spreading its wings and landing between his ribs. It sat there, twitching nervously, each step towards Dorion sending it slamming into his bones.
Swallowing, Draven headed towards where Dorion was perched. The prefect's dirty blonde hair caught a few sunbeams, shining gold in the afternoon light.
"Dorion," Draven smiled, sitting down beside the prefect. He folded his legs underneath the bench, careful not to touch the wix. "I'm good, how are you?" his voice was as soft as he could make it. It had been coming out in squeaks lately, and going too high made it break. So he kept it low, focusing on shaping the words one at a time. "What did you steal Santa's Sack for?" he asked, a wry smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
@dorion anderson
ITS STILL RAINING. WHY IS IT STILL RAINING? sta • 13 | eva • 8 | str • 1 | wis • 15 |arc • 7 | acc • 9 |