Irish Wristwatch Open Closed

Illowy was curled up in her usual place, an over stuffed chair close to the window. Her bag lay limply on the ground with her textbooks as her quill scratched away, taking down notes for class. Today, she'd decided to dedicate her time to just studying, starting to feel like she was beginning to lose her edge in classes. So there she was, faithfully engrossed in her work... for a moment anyway.

A trained ear heard the whisperings of her childhood tongue rolling off the lips of a Gryffindor boy not far off. Well, nearly so. The dialect was different, but nothing she couldn't still understand. She ignored it, however, simply tucking some long dark hair behind her ear and returning to her reading. Illowy didn't have time to be distracted today, there was a lot of material she wanted to get through.

She was only torn away again when she heard the same boy get up a moment or two later, tripping and falling flat on his face. Bright blue eyes followed him for a moment, a neutral expression on her face as he searched for the now broken glasses on the floor, and climbed back into his chair. She was possibly the only one not snickering about the situation. After all, she might've been a Slytherin, she might've been rude and cold at times, but she wasn't a bad person... contrary to what most other people assumed about her.

Shoving her things her in bag, the young Slytherin stood, noisily pushing her chair back to where she'd found it before slinging her back over her shoulder and starting towards the boy, "Tar liom. Is féidir liom do chuid spéaclaí a shocrú." (Come with me. I can fix your glasses.) the girl offered, her voice plain, lacking any kind of tact that it ought to have had considering how the lad had just embarrassed himself.

@Illowy Magnard

Ashton stared up at the girl, hoping she wasn't going to make fun of him. When she spoke, the familiar sound of home flooded his ears and he was eased. 

"Tá tú Gaeilge! Labhraíonn tú Gaeilge! Tá brón orm. Ní féidir liom bualadh le mórán daoine mar mise. Tá sé fionnuar, is léir. Is Béarla iad an chuid is mó acu, anseo." (You're Irish! You speak Gaelic! Sorry. I just don't meet many people like me. It's cool, is all. Most of them, here, are English.)

He stood and started to follow her, trying to think of a way to start a less weird conversation.

"Tá sé deas bualadh leat. Ashton mo ainm. Cad is mise?" (It's nice to meet you. My name's Ashton. What's yours?)

He hoped that didn't sound awkward. After all, he'd hate to make a bad first impression on someone, especially someone as kind as to fix his glasses. Speaking of which-

"Go raibh maith agat as cabhrú liom le mo spéaclaí. Ba chiall náire é titim mar sin. Is mór agam é. Mar sin, buíochas." (Thank you for helping me with my glasses. It was kind of embarrassing to fall like that. I appreciate it. So, thanks.)

The young Slytherin passed him a look as though so say 'of course I can, didn't you just hear me?', however she refrained from rubbing salt in any wounds the boy might've had from his blunder, "Cónaíonn mo sheanmháthair le mo mháthair agus I. Ní féidir léi ach Gaeilge a labhairt." (My grandmother lives with my mother and I. She can only speak Irish), she spoke as she began walking, expecting him to follow her if he was wanting her help.

While trying to find a quiet spot where there would be no one to witness her unsupervised magic use, the boy would continue yammering on. To his first question, her answer was short and direct, "Illowy." the pale eyed girl's voice still refusing to show any sort of infection or interest. All the same he kept on, "Níl aon chúis le buíochas a ghabháil liom. Ní dhearna mé aon rud go fóill. "There's no reason to thank me. I havn't done anything yet. The girl passed a glance back over her shoulder at him, looking the boy up and down before going back to the task of finding a place away from other people.

Finally settling on a corner off to the side, partially hidden off behind a bookshelf, Illowy plopped herself into one of the plush chairs, waiting for the boy to follow suit.

@Illowy Magnard

Ashton sat next to the girl, excited to see her bit of unauthorised magic. He knew they shouldn't be doing this. She probably knew that as well, but he was intrigued by the rebellious witch, and wanted to see her in action.

"Tá brón orm go labhraím an oiread sin. Ní chiallaíonn mé a bheith ina bodhraigh. Bhí mé ar bís agus-"
Sorry I talk so much. I was just excited and-

He stopped himself, trying to make sure he didn't talk too much, so as not to upset her, but still felt the need to apologise for being so annoying.

'Íosa Críost, lig dó a bheith agus fág uaithi í féin.' Jesus Christ, just let it be and leave her alone.

But the feeling of being disliked persisted in him, and he had to say something. He would've regretted it if he didn't.

"Tá brón orm." Sorry.

Well, there went nothing. He vaguely realised that not talking was probably the best thing he coud do in this situation, so he opted to not speak another word unless spoken to. With that in his mind, he waited for her next actions silently, trying not to disturb or anger her again.

Making herself comfortable, Illowy dropped her bag on the ground by her feet before pulling her legs up into the overstuffed cushion, ciss-crossing her legs under herself. Of course she knew better then to use magic unsupervised, much less without permission of a staff member, but she'd been studying hard and when would be the next opportunity she would get to actually practice what she'd bee studying on most recently? After all, it wasn't like she wore glasses herself.

Barely listening as the boy babbled on, the girl finished getting situated before drawing her wand from her robes. The girl always had taken such pride in her wand; with its light colored wood and intricately carved handle of vines, leaves and flower buds that curled and stretched up the length of her wand daintily, she always felt like just its very appearance mirrored her own at times.

Pale eyes lifted towards the boy when he finally seemed settled. Not bothering to either accept nor deny his strange apology, Illowy shook some hair out of her face, "Gloiní, le do thoil." Glasses, please she spoke, holding out her hand for the ruined piece of eye wear, "Ba chóir duit a bheith níos cúramach, tá a fhios agat." You should be more careful, you know

Ashton passed the glasses to her, blushing lightly at the fool he had surely made himself out to be. He never wanted to bother anyone, much less someone who seemed so important. He could feel superiority dripping from this girl, her aura a bright shade of gold with light red and white undertones. She was the most amazing part of this place so far, and he hoped she would be a part of his experience for a while. After all, he was starting to like this girl.

"Tá a fhios agam gur chóir dom a bheith níos cúramaí. Chaith mé díreach. Dhá chos chlé, buille faoi thuairim mé." I know I should be more careful. I just tripped. Two left feet, I guess.

He looked down, glad the stuttering hadn't started. That would be embarrassing. He kept quiet, gazing in awe at her wand. He was sure his face conveyed the emotions, but he had no idea how to express them.

"Tá sé ... Tá sé fíor-álainn. Néal." It's... It's absolutely beautiful. Stunning.

He then remembered his silent promise and promptly shut up. He gave her a small, timid smile, trying to be friendly without coming off as pesky and annoying.

'Ná lig dom praiseach a dhéanamh de seo,' 'Please don't let me mess this up,' he prayed to anything that might be listening.

Carefully taking the glasses, examining the cracked lens as well as the odd bending of the frame that made them utterly useless. It didn't seem like it would be terribly hard of a spell if she got her concentration right.

Steely eyes flickered to the boy once more as he complimented her wand. Offer a shadow of a smile, the Slytherin gave a small shrug, "Go raibh maith agat. Fuair mé an t-ádh, buille faoi thuairim mé." Thank you. I got lucky, I guess she explained modestly. She'd heard students boasting back and forth to one another about their wands, boasting back and forth about woods and core and design. Personally, Illowy cared very little about all of that.

Sweeping a tress of hair out of her face, the girl held the glasses out a ways, recalling her studies and concentrating carefully as she held her wand ready. With a controlled swish, the young witch recited:

Oculus Reparo

A gentle puff, the cracks of the lens healed and fused back properly and the frames easily bent itself back into perfect place until the item looked as though it the boy had only just picked them up from the eye doctor's that morning.

The girl swallowed excitement, though a prideful smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she examined the glasses once more to make sure they'd been truly fixed before offering them back to the boy, "Amhail is dá mba rud é nár tharla aon rud riamh." As if nothing ever happened.