(no subject)
Week Name/Date/Time: 'The Minister is Elected' / Sunday, November 6th / 9:20 PM
Location: Ravenclaw Common Room
Open To: Brenden
Currently Involving: Jory
Jory yawned. The only reason he wasn't in bed yet was because it was early enough to actually annoy his roommates if he went to sleep now. He was also in that state of exhaustion brought on by boredom rather than actual fatigue, which he feared would lead to waking up too early and not being able to get back to sleep. As he was rather knowledgeable about sleep -- it was his area of expertise, in fact -- he knew this to be true, and so wouldn't attempt it.
Also, he had homework to finish. Not that it really mattered, since he had sort of given up on it. Sitting tucked away in the corner of one of the couches, his legs folded under him, he was doodling absently on the piece of parchment on his lap. What had started out as Transfiguration homework had quickly devolved (or evolved, really, depending on what you thought was more important) into doodlings of quidditch plays; some realistic, some not, some creative, some blatantly plagiarised. But all of them were more fun than Transfiguration and if he was extra bored one day, he reckoned he might show them to Emmy to see what she thought. Chewing thoughtfully on the end of his quill, Jory stifled another yawn.
Location: Ravenclaw Common Room
Open To: Brenden
Currently Involving: Jory
Jory yawned. The only reason he wasn't in bed yet was because it was early enough to actually annoy his roommates if he went to sleep now. He was also in that state of exhaustion brought on by boredom rather than actual fatigue, which he feared would lead to waking up too early and not being able to get back to sleep. As he was rather knowledgeable about sleep -- it was his area of expertise, in fact -- he knew this to be true, and so wouldn't attempt it.
Also, he had homework to finish. Not that it really mattered, since he had sort of given up on it. Sitting tucked away in the corner of one of the couches, his legs folded under him, he was doodling absently on the piece of parchment on his lap. What had started out as Transfiguration homework had quickly devolved (or evolved, really, depending on what you thought was more important) into doodlings of quidditch plays; some realistic, some not, some creative, some blatantly plagiarised. But all of them were more fun than Transfiguration and if he was extra bored one day, he reckoned he might show them to Emmy to see what she thought. Chewing thoughtfully on the end of his quill, Jory stifled another yawn.