(Untitled)

[trefor]

Date/Time: Promises and Plans; Sunday, Oct 9th; 6:00PM
Location: Empty Fourth Floor Classroom
Open to: Ozma

Currently involving: Trefor

Comments

[ghostozma]

[ ooc: Just thought I'd mention that according to the HiH schedule, I think Sunday is Oct 9, unless you mean Wednesday? ^^ ]

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.

She drifted into the room, straight through the outer wall and gazed at the disconsolate boy. He looked familiar. Yes, a Gryffindor. Someone from her old House. How... special. In a flurry of wind that was caused by no draft, she ripped his sketchbook out of his grasp, sending it and his utensils tumbling to the floor.

Translation: Helloooooo. >: )

[trefor]

[OOC: Thanks, I meant to change that. It's fixed now.]

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.

[ghostozma]

Leave? Ozma laughed, a cold, bitter sound.

"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.

[trefor]

Trefor was a little shocked when the voice had come out of nowhere. At first he assumed it was another student using a spell or potion for invisibility. However he didn't recognize the voice and Trefor knew his enemies well.

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.

[ghostozma]

Alright, she was confused. Why couldn't he see her?

"Yes, a ghost," she hissed in frustration. "Open your eyes and take a look, why don't you?!" Something was wrong. Could Ozma really have drifted so far that she was not only a spirit, but an invisible one? She started to panic at the thought of being afforded an even lesser grip on the living world.

Ozma whirled away from him in a frenzy, anxiety mounting; she spun and spun and spun in a circle, crying out with a haunting wail, concentrating very hard on becoming visible again. She couldn't disappear, she just couldn't!

Several moments later she slowed to a stand-still in front of Trefor. Wispy hair mussed, mouth still open in a silent cry, skirts in a tangle. She reluctantly opened her eyes, waiting for his reaction. Don't disappear, don't disappear, don't disappear.

[trefor]

This was priceless. Trefor struggled to not smirk. The ghost girl was in a fury now. She threw a temper tantrum before finally coming to a rest in front of him with a worried look on her face. Trefor was enjoying himself, but he wasn't heartless. Plus teasing the dead was too easy.

"I think I can see you now. Are you finished trying to be a banshee? Honestly you're not very good at it."

Trefor sat back down on the desk and unlocked his sketchbook. Flipping to a new page he started outlining.

[ghostozma]

"How dare you?!" she screamed, flying in his face and raging at him. Ozma reached out to throttle him, but of course nothing happened. She couldn't. Touch him. God it was humiliating.

She immediately burst into tears, not even caring to hide her face as it distorted in anguish.

"You horrid, horrid boy!" It was a wracked out sob, broken and terrible.

Temper tantrum, indeed.

[trefor]

Trefor only flinched slightly as the ghost flew at him. He kept on drawing.

"Honestly there's no point in getting you knickers in a...well you get the drift." Trefor grinned.

Then she started crying. Trefor didn't handle crying. "Umm...look I'm sorry. Please don't cry. I'll uh..draw your picture." He offered. That cheered most girls up. Heh. He couldn't help but smile. Sometimes it did a lot more for him.

Trefor pointed to his sketch. "{See it's you...only without the crazy look on your face." He cringed. Maybe not the best thing to say.

[ghostozma]

Ozma continued to cry through his entreaties for her to stop, growing ever louder as if to spite him. She'd be attracting a crowd soon; or perhaps the opposite, as most children liked to stay away from her.

Picture? Her picture? Ozma hiccuped, her sobs drawing to a stammering halt. She peered bleary-eyed at him, then down at his book. What's this then? The ghost hovered closer, warily, and leaned over to have a better look. Well, would you look at that! It was her, indeed. Or the start of her. Another hiccup and she blinked back up at Trefor. She sniffed pitifully.

"There is no crazy look on my face," she protested feebly, not knowing how else to respond. She couldn't tell him she was pleased by the sketch, that wouldn't do. But she would like him to continue. So... she resisted crying any further.

Ozma tossed back her willowy hair and floated still, regarding him from the corner of her eye. Was she posing? Hah!

[trefor]

Well at least she stopped crying. Trefor cringed a little as she floated closer. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with her; he just didn't like anyone looking at his sketchbook. Besides most of the pictures were of Zoe and he didn't want to look like a total stalker.

"There now I can capture you're radiate beauty." Trefor went back to drawing. "You were starting to make me think you were the Wailing Widow, and honestly it would take four of you to fill her shoes. Literally."

He wasn't sure what to say. This was odd. Trefor was usually comfortable and easy going with girls. Heck girls liked him. This one however threw him off.

"So...umm...how long have you been at Hogwarts?"

[ghostozma]

Ozma rewarded him with a sniffly smile for the Wailing Widow comment. He had a sense of humour on him, that was refreshing.

"Pretty much always," she replied, "since I started school. I died here." It was so strange, just saying it like that. "But if you'd like specifics, nearly 117 years. Give or take a few when I haunted my own family."

She hovered around to the other side of him, peering over his shoulder. "How old are you? What's your name?"

[trefor]

Was that a laugh? Trefor couldn't quite be sure. You could never tell with ghosts. He frowned and erased a section. It was hard drawing someone new. He was a bit out of practice.

"Wow that's kinda cool." He replied. He started filling in the section he'd replacd. He was having trouble capturing the way her hair floated slightly.

"I'm 17, and my name is Trefor, but you can call me Treff." He pulled his scarf down a bit. It was starting to itch. It gave him an idea.

"What house were you in when you...umm..ya know...went to school here? I mean you look like you were about my age."

[ghostozma]

Ozma stared amazedly at the progress of his sketching, looking closer as he erased some and perfected it. He was quite talented. She turned her eyes on him with appreciation, just for a moment, before looking back down at the parchment.

Wait, had he said it was 'cool'? Her being here, haunting everyone? No one had really said that before. They mostly wanted her to go away. And who could blame them? Ozma felt a small twinge of gratitude for him.

"I was in Gryffindor," she pointed to his scarf, "like you. I was sixteen and in Sixth Year." She smiled. WHAT? SMILE? WTFBBQ!

[trefor]

"I knew you had to be, only a Gryffindor could be that scary" he joked, "or maybe Slytherin, but you seem to nice. A Slytherin ghost would just try and bug me."

"What did you like at Hogwarts then?" He asked. He started shading in her clothes. He found it easier to talk to her now. Now that he had something to focus on.

[ghostozma]

Nice? Ozma? Alright so this boy was definitely an escapee from St Mungo's if she'd ever heard of one. "I thought I was bugging you," she protested indignantly. "And I am scary! VERY! ROOAARRR!"

But the bellowing sort of lost its potency after she'd made such a show of being sniffly and sad and interested in him. Drat it all, really.

"What did I ... like?" It was a strange question, one no one had ever bothered to ask before. If someone interrogated her, it was normally to ask what it was like to be a spirit. But he asked something that was genuinely-- thoughtful? Ozma was struck silent for a moment, unsure how to answer. She glided to his other side, treading air at his shoulder.

"I ... Well, I suppose I liked reading very much," she nodded to herself, "and mothering the younger years." Ozma smiled a rare smile. "So many of the First Years missed their parents dreadfully when they arrived, you know? Being in a new place, far away from home, surrounded by strangers. I couldn't help but take them under my wing sometimes, at least the ones in Gryffindor. I liked ... telling them stories. Or-- really, telling stories to anyone who would listen."

She stared off into the distance beyond one of the windows, eyes dancing with memories as they sunk in. Evenings by the fireside, the little ones gathered around her in a clump, as she amazed them with tales of princesses and evil overlords, pirates and swashbuckling, mermaids and mayhem. A time when she had felt far less cynical...

[trefor]

Trefor grinned. "Oh um yes..very scary." He couldn't help but laugh a little. He was sure she could be very scary. Probably to the younger ones, but she seemed far more interesting then scary to him.

"I was a terrified first year. Only I had Zoe so at least I knew someone." His stomach grumbled slightly. He ignored it. Food could wait at least a little bit longer.

"Did you play Quidditch? I'm the Captain for Gryffindor now? Were they any good back then?"