𝕭𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝕿𝖆𝖝

Sinclair had not been active for a while. She had graduated as a first year now, and while she maintained her usual attendance as a Hogwarts student so far, her preference to being alone (or in her words, being in peace,) seems to have pushed people away. She had written letters over the first few weeks of summer to the one friend she thought she was closest to, but the conversations dwindled. She was still waiting for a reply. A little insecure part of her did just think she wasn't all that worthy to befriend in the first place, and she no longer took the effort to meet new people, nor maintain friendships. Something often felt... missing. Either in the people around her or herself, she was not sure. Most likely herself, she'd think. It didn't affect her interest in people-watching, though.

The shadows were an easy spot to observe from, but it took a certain something to remain unnoticed even in broad daylight. The girl does not make her presence clear. Like a drifting fog, she lingers, observes, and moves on without much attachment. At the apothecary shop, she silently places her bag of bones at the counter where it is weighed, a polite smile upon her lips. Detached, yet just warm enough to look mundane. She watches the kind shopkeeper smile back and handles her order. Sinclair has been here enough times to skip the usual "Why are you buying all these bones?" questions. She simply never gave a proper answer. A gentle clatter of coins scatter on the countertop, and after receiving her receipt, she leaves.

Bones are nice, and they make me happy. Simple as that.