(no subject)
Week Name/Date/Time: 'Dark Sarcasm in the Classroom' / Thursday, 12 January 2006 / 8:19 PM
Location: Portait to the Kitchens
Open To: ANYONE
Currently Involving: Hanna
Hanna Kensington had a craving for fruit, a craving that led her to a painting (ironically) of fruit, a painting that would eventually lead her to the kitchens. It wasn't, of course, as if any old fruit would do. No, she was in the mood for a banana, and that she blamed on her name.
In one of her earlier years at Hogwarts, perhaps her second or third, she'd learned a song from a fellow Hufflepuff that had planted itself in her head for days.
Hanna Hanna Bo Banna Banana Fanna Fo Fanna Mee Mi Mo Manna!
It seemed harmless then, something silly to pass the time with, a way to make it seem as if yellow could possibly be her colour. And then, as most things often met their end, she was informed that this was a muggle tune. She'd not so much as hummed it since.
But in the darkness of the corridor, the empty and spacious corridor, she let one or two notes escape her lips before she closed her eyes and pressed her back up against the wall. She could wait. Hanna Kensington never sneaked off anywhere alone.
Location: Portait to the Kitchens
Open To: ANYONE
Currently Involving: Hanna
Hanna Kensington had a craving for fruit, a craving that led her to a painting (ironically) of fruit, a painting that would eventually lead her to the kitchens. It wasn't, of course, as if any old fruit would do. No, she was in the mood for a banana, and that she blamed on her name.
In one of her earlier years at Hogwarts, perhaps her second or third, she'd learned a song from a fellow Hufflepuff that had planted itself in her head for days.
Hanna Hanna Bo Banna Banana Fanna Fo Fanna Mee Mi Mo Manna!
It seemed harmless then, something silly to pass the time with, a way to make it seem as if yellow could possibly be her colour. And then, as most things often met their end, she was informed that this was a muggle tune. She'd not so much as hummed it since.
But in the darkness of the corridor, the empty and spacious corridor, she let one or two notes escape her lips before she closed her eyes and pressed her back up against the wall. She could wait. Hanna Kensington never sneaked off anywhere alone.