(Untitled)
Date/Time: Promises and Plans; Sunday, Oct 9th; 6:00PM
Location: Empty Fourth Floor Classroom
Open to: Ozma
Currently involving: Trefor
( Trefor was avoiding the Great Hall, because that's where people were likely to be...people like Zoe )
Location: Empty Fourth Floor Classroom
Open to: Ozma
Currently involving: Trefor
( Trefor was avoiding the Great Hall, because that's where people were likely to be...people like Zoe )
Comments 22
Ozma could detect melancholy like a dog smells fear. It was practically a sixth sense; or perhaps in her case, it was a third sense, since she couldn't really feel, taste, or smell anything these days. In any case, the despondency others felt connected with her own gloom and called to her, a mother beckoning to her child. It drew her down the flights of changing staircases; she glided into the Fourth Floor corridor, hanging a foot or two off the ground. As she neared the deserted classroom where Trefor sat, the dreariness practically made the atmosphere pulse, thick and heavy and overbearing. Ah, delicious. Someone to share her moodiness with ( ... )
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Trefor was pretty zoned out when a gust of wind ripped the sketch book from his hands and sent it across the room. Groggily he looked around his pulse quickening. Either someone or something was playing a trick on him.
"Very funny. Haha. You've had your laugh now get the hell out." Trefor grumbled. He crossed the room to the falled book. It was open to a picture of Zoe asleep on the common room couch. Blushing he snapped it shut and tucked it under his arm. He slid his wand from his pocket.
"I'm serious mate. I'm in no mood to play around. Leave or you're going to get the full extent of my issues rained upon you." Trefor cringed. Oh yes...that was very threatning. He sounded like a cheap therapist. Bloody hell.
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"Why don't you make me?" she purred, hovering closer to him, following him around as he hurried to gather his belongings. She caught the vision of Zoe sleeping and frowned. A lovesick puppy, was he? How revolting. How coarse.
But then his wand was out and she laughed again, the echoes reverberating hollowly across the room.
"What are you going to do, curse me to death?" she mocked, descending to meet him at face level. "Too bad, I'm already dead!" Ozma swiped a hand across his cheek, as though to slap him, but her hand went right through of course. All in all, it was a better effect than a slap itself. She grinned smugly at him.
Hard to imagine this girl had ever been a noble Gryffindor.
Apparently eternity can change a person.
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When the cold hand passed through his face he stumbled backwards in shock and hit the wall behind him roughly.
Annoyed he slipped his wand and sketchbook into the pockets of his robes.
"A ghost huh? Well you're not any of the house ghosts...they wouldn't play games. So an ickle ghostie then? Too weak to show yourself? Or too shy?" Trefor needed an outlet from his emotions and this seemed like a pretty good one.
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