Dusty Books and Cozy Nooks Errand

The period of time she'd spent in and out of the Hospital Wing seemed to have initiated quite a change within the young Ravenclaw student. Before getting hit by a particularly nasty bug, she'd been a very quiet person, keeping to herself and refusing to step even a toe outside of her comfort zone, but after having spent such a long time cooped up in blankets (if she hadb't been cooped up in scrolls, that is), something seemed to have snapped within the normally unassuming girl—the quiet of the corners she'd once found comforting had become too deafeningly silent for her to stand the next time she tried to find solace in them. The sharp contrast had been unnerving at first, but she didn't quite grasp just how big of an impact it truly was until, days later, she found herself signing up to clean with strangers who likely weren't even from her own House and it hit her then that she would have never even dreamed of doing such a thing when she first came to Hogwarts.

It was with this thought in mind that she arrived at the Library, rolling the sleeves of her button-down up to her elbows to prepare for the grueling day ahead. Looking around, she noticed that she might've been the first of the five students to arrive, but Talia had a penchant for being early anyway and at least that wasn't new. She didn't put much thought into it and instead listened to the older student's instructions, nodding every so often to indicate that she understood the rules—no top shelves, no ladders, no sealant on non-wooden materials—and no dawdling, she guessed, because they were there to do a job, after all.

"Right," she answered quickly before turning to the materials laid out. They were fairly common and looked non-magical enough, and she couldn't help the pang of disappointment that gnawed at her belly when she realized they wouldn't be picking themselves up and dancing like they had done in the movies. She should've expected it, however; the cleaning materials at home had never danced, either, and if there was anyone in the world who was capable of making them come alive, it would have been Cain. The fact that he had never done it was proof enough to Talia that nobody could. With that in mind, she reached for the feather duster, an absolutely plain-looking thing, and quickly made her way to the nearest bookshelf.

Word Count: 411 | @Xailah Alptraum | Open to Interactions

Bastille wasn't exactly sure how he'd ended up on this cleaning committee, certain he hadn't actually volunteered himself, but he supposed he didn't exactly mind. It wasn't like he was opposed to doing errands and tasks for the professors and prefects and whatnot — he just didn't seek out the opportunities himself; being 'involved' and 'helpful' wasn't exactly in his nature. Somehow he just ended up at these things. 

He didn't mind more time spent in the library, though; it was one of his favourite places at Hogwarts, if not the favourite, and cleaning wasn't so bad. There was something relaxing about seeing things improve, really, even if he never had the patience to commit a whole day to clean. (Or, for that matter, anything more than an hour or so at a time.) He could take the time to check out the spines of the books he sorted, too. It could certainly be worse. 

Bastille settled into the back of the group as Xailah addressed them, absently noting the tasks she laid out and the supplies she indicated. It was all fairly straight-forward, and he even recognised the Ravenclaw who joined their group — Talia, wasn't it? — from early on in the school year. She was alright. He might even prefer her to some of his own Housemates, frankly, but that wasn't very bloody surprising.

"Hey," he greeted her mildly as he followed her towards the bookshelves, scanning a row briefly before he started to pull them down. He stacked them on the floor before the shelf in an orderly fashion, making sure they stayed organised, and spoke to Talia as he did, "You alright?"

227 words & interacting with @Natalia Draig.

@Xailah Alptraum & noticing @Natalia Draig

Spring Cleaning. Definitely not one of Piérre’s hobbies, per say, but definitely an excuse to get out of class and hang around new people for a spare bit of cash and some succulent house points. Piérre was determined to make the best of his house in light of the trial and the constant investigation going on.

It would be a lie to say that he hadn’t experience his fair share of weird already, and in fact, he couldn’t stop thinking about the name of the boy that he had run into on two occasions now. Victor Moore. He was a kid that had witnessed the death of Delores Umbridge. He was a pivotal role in the liberation of Potter, and Piérre wanted to understand everything. There was only one tiny problem...

Victor seemed absolutely petrified of the boy.

It had been something that had kept the young Gryffindor awake for nights on end, unable to concentrate on anything other than homework, which he was stressing out over as well. His appearance was a little more than grey, his mouth was dry, and his green eyes to any onlookers might appear a little faded, cheeks a little more pinked than if one were to meet him on a normal basis. He looked feverish, and Piérre wasn’t going to lie, he certainly felt under the weather.

However he refused to back down from this. He refused to just walk away because he had a sneeze and a cough. Besides, it wasn’t like he had an allergy to dust or mildew or anything... He had mostly signed up for this in order to speak with the Prefect of his house, Miss Alptraum. She had been with him at the Caretaker’s office, and he wanted to speak with her again to tell her some new information that he had found out about the boy. He had been ashamed that he was unable to tell her the name of the kid at the time she had asked, but maybe he could make it up to her...

Piérre entered the library with a small sneeze, which he stifled in the crook of his elbow, eyes wide open. It was a useless party trick, but it was still a lot of fun to watch how people would react to the odd ability.

Reducio

Rolled a d4 to Determine House Color for the Day:

1- Hufflepuff
2- Ravenclaw
3- Gryffindor
4- Slytherin

Number Rolled: 3
Gryffindor

With a small groan as he reeled from the sneeze, Piérre gently grabbed a tissue from his black and red pocket, signifying a Gryffindor, and wiped his nose, placing it in his opposite pocket and then withdrawing a small bottle of green hand sanitizer and cleaning his hands. Cleanliness first, after all.

Finally running into the Prefect, Piérre waved from a distance. ”Hi Miss Prefect!” He called, a little bit more than stuffed up. ”Marchonné here and reporting for duty!” He clicked his heels in a small salute before receiving instructions. Another girl had evidently made it here before he had, and he offered a quick glance in her direction. He aimed to talk to her sooner rather than later, but he had been caught up in one of the things that Xailah had mentioned.

“No cleaning the top shelf... Don’t want to make hospital runs.”

The corners of Piérre’s lips raised in a tiny, borderline mischievous, smile. ”But... Miss Prefect... I bet I could do it! I have really good balance, and I’m not scared of heights!” If she protested, Piérre would follow up with: ”If I break an arm, I’ll go to the Hospital Wing on my own, no escort needed!” Piérre finished off with an award-winning smile, his ears lowering and his slightly dull eyes sparkling in a way that screamed puppy-eyes. ”Pleeeeeaaaase?”

If once again she protested, Piérre would get a serous look, a kind of look that he had never sported to anyone before. It was a stare that made his eyes turn to sharpened shards of bottle glass and caused him to lower his brows in a way that made his face elongate and look much older than he actually was. ”I have information on Caretaker Boy.” He would whisper.

710 words

A sudden sneeze caused the Ravenclaw girl's shoulders to jump, and she whirled around in a flurry of blonde hair to eye the boy that had just arrived—unfamiliar, she noted, but people often were to her. After all, Talia had spent the first half of the academic year keeping to herself, thinking (rather stupidly, in fact) that staying true to her old habits would help her survive, but she'd eventually realized that there was more to life than pouring over tomes alone, in the dark corners of the castle, quiet as a mouse.

She offered him a brief smile, but he seemed invested in a conversation with the Prefect, so she turned her attention again to the shelves. There was another outburst from a different student, and while she didn't turn to face the Slytherin, she hummed in agreement all the same; a magical deep-cleaning would have been quite enjoyable to witness and anything less had a far inferior flair, but since she'd already committed to helping the Prefect, it couldn't be helped.

She was about to start removing the books when a voice greeted her; thankfully, the quality of Bast's voice was familiar enough that she wasn't as startled as she normally would have been, and her movements were visibly at ease when she turned around to face him.

"Good morning, Bast," came Talia's quiet greeting, offering the Gryffindor boy a small but delighted smile. As he started unloading books from their place on the shelves, so did she, delicately placing the tomes in a neat, straight tower next to his, humming thoughtfully at his question. "I've been getting better, if that's what you're asking. I haven't even been to the Hospital Wing in four weeks now."

With that, she turned to Bast again and offered a wide grin, her pale cheeks coloring with a hint of embarrassment; the freckles on the bridge of her nose swam in the lightly flushed color. "They even said I'm healthy enough to try out for Quidditch if I wanted to," she added, her voice thick and warm with something indescribable as she peered at the bare, dusty shelves they had just unburdened. Her gaze stayed there, tracing the shapes of dust, for a moment unseeing. "Not that I could, though. I've been told I'm a... ah, une limp noodle? Anyway, yes, should we dust these straight off or wipe them down?"

WC: 400 (811 total) | @Bastille Aurelius | Mentioned @Piérre Marchonné, @Jack Burnett

Open to Interaction

Per usual, Evelynn had been sitting comfortably upon her study throne in the common room, contentedly and thoroughly absorbed in assignments. As the year progressed past its middle point and ever nearer towards the end of term, she felt the increasing pressure of doubling down on work that had sadly gone neglected.

It wasn't that she didn't have the time for it — although, it wasn't exactly like she had all that much free time — but rather that every time she sat down to focus, she found her attention drifting. In light of the recent events, with murderers on the loose and poisoned candy circulating the castle, it had become extremely difficult to focus on anything as trivial as schoolwork. That said, it still needed to be done, and so the little lion had resolved to make use of that pomodoro technique her mother had always raved about and attempt to complete at least one assignment.

Much to her surprise (or lack there-of given how quite unaware of it she was), the technique had proved quite effective. It had taken a couple of failed attempts, and the death of a few pretend trees in order for her to really find her pace, but when she did, the work absorbed her. Perhaps it helped that it was potions that she was working on; that rarely failed to captivate her attention. She was just about to start on another question when she spared a glance at her watch.

"Oh crap!" The words escaped her lips reflexively as she jumped to her feet, jostling her chair.

How had so much time passed! She had been quite sure she'd have ample time to finish at least one more part of the assignment before having to pack up and head to the errand she had signed up to do, but according to the little dials on that clockface, she was already running late.

* * *

Evelynn found herself racing down the corridor of the ground hall no more than five minutes later. She'd flown down the seven or so stories of stairs as swiftly as her little feet would take her, stumbling once or twice in her haste. Back in the Dragon's Den, she had left her things stacked in a precarious and haphazard pile upon her bed. The notion of its disarray irked her, but she tried to push that aside and out of mind. She had more important things to focus on right now. Like finding her breath — which she tried to do just outside the library, doubled over and panting.

When the stich in her side had eased, she combed her hair back out of her face with her fingers, and stepped forward. She entered the library as quietly as she could. Already, she could see the others who had gathered for the task hard at work. Evelynn grimaced internally, chiding herself on having missed the introduction. No matter. She couldn't quite make out who all of the students were that had gathered since they had their backs to her, but by the looks of it, most of them were dusting, or pulling books off shelves to dust beneath.

Alright. Strategize. A broom caught her eye. If she could just get to that broom unnoticed, she could snatch it up, sneak into a side stack, and start sweeping as though she had been there the whole time.

Fool proof.

In cat-like fashion, she prowled forward to execute her plan.

Evelynn attempts to sneak in unnoticed and act as though she had been there the whole time
Word Count: 577 | Total Count: 577

It wasn't that Bastille didn't like other people, per se. He wasn't... anti-social, exactly. He was just opposed to socializing with people he didn't like, which was not the same as people he disliked. The vast majority of his peers fell into the category of those he was completely and utterly indifferent towards, and as such he didn't exactly care to hang out with them. If there was no spark of interest, what was the point? Was he really supposed to pretend to care about a bunch of people that barely registered on his radar? It's not like he and So-And-So were going to have a nice ol' chat in the Common Room and start spilling their bloody fears to one another if they couldn't even get past the small talk. It all seemed like wasted energy to Bast. 

There were, of course, those who did interest him in some way, though. His list was short, but he was perfectly happy to count Talia on it even if they'd barely spoken during the last term. She was quiet, but there was something about her that was just interesting. Easy to talk to. He felt like some where in there was a kindred spirit; he just hadn't tapped into it yet. It was a sense he got about some people that made them immediately approachable in his selective opinion, and that was probably why he only spared a passing glance at the others who joined them — Jack and... someone — before turning back to the shelves that he and Talia were clearing. 

He glanced sideways at the Ravenclaw as she spoke, nodding absently at her response. He tried to think back to the Talia he met in the Fall; quieter, maybe, a little more understated, and in poor health. She did seem better now, like a foggy window that had been wiped clear once more. The thought brought a half-smile on and he provided, "That's good. What're the nurses going to do without you to fuss over now, though?" 

He shot her a crooked grin in jest before turning away to set another stack of books down. He paused momentarily, distracted by a flicker of moment, and arched a brow as he spotted Eve... creeping in? Amusement ticked his grin higher as he watched her for a second, but he didn't say anything to call her out. Instead he just nodded in her direction in greeting before turning back towards Talia, willing to go along with Eve's ploy and pretend he hadn't noticed the good-two-shoes sneaking in late, of all things. 

He was about to comment on Quidditch — it was a comment interest of his, after all — when her mumbled addition gave him pause. That certainly sounded more like the Talia he met before, and he frowned slightly at the books in front of him before snorting. "Don't be mental, Tal. 'Course you can try out; you think any of the other Firsties aren't limp noodles?" He gave a shake of his head and then angled another lazy smirk at her. "We should practice together."

It was an authoritative claim, not much of a question, but Bast had never really been the type to ask for things. He tended to just go about getting them or simply proceeded with the assumption that asking for permission was a nicety, not a requirement; he liked Quidditch and Talia needed to practice. It seemed like a natural approach to him, and thus he carried on as if he'd said something as simple as commenting on the weather, turning back to their task. "I think we should probably wipe the shelves down and dry them. Dust the books off before we put them back, yeah? Give the shelves extra time to dry that way, too."

633 words (860 total) & interacting with @Natalia Draig & @Evelynn Decipio, feeling real attacked rn by @Jack Burnett. Open to interaction.