(no subject)
Week Name/Date/Time: 'Disturbance in the Force' / Monday 17th April 2006 / 10:13 PM
Location: Library
Open To: Anyone!
Currently Involving: Noah
Bloody poems. Noah Elias Ogilvy hated attempting to interpret poems. When the author was trying to say something about how he loved a woman until his heart no longer beat, he used words that made it seem as if the earth had been destroyed and he was angry at a caterpillar. Well, maybe not exactly, but it wasn't that far off from the truth! Noah and nature did not connect on a spiritual level. He had accidentally picked up a book of poetry in the library earlier in the day, somehow thinking it was a book on the Albanian potions crisis. Couldn't avoid a good read, eh?
When he'd realised it was actually a book of poems about the Albanian landscape written by an apothecary, he'd lost interest almost immediately. In fact, he'd drifted off into a daydream of sorts. All of his daydreams were odd, naturally, but this one? He couldn't quite figure out why he'd had it. Books in the library at night flew off the shelves and played music from their pages, spiraling through the air and sending pixie dust (of all things) falling like snow onto the tables and... oh, something else. He couldn't remember everything.
No matter. If a book was boring enough to make him space out, it wasn't meant to be in his hands. Using the excuse of being a prefect - just this once! - to be out after curfew, he halted in front of the doors to the library and let himself be calmed by the silence. Hogwarts after dark was a splendid thing!
Location: Library
Open To: Anyone!
Currently Involving: Noah
Bloody poems. Noah Elias Ogilvy hated attempting to interpret poems. When the author was trying to say something about how he loved a woman until his heart no longer beat, he used words that made it seem as if the earth had been destroyed and he was angry at a caterpillar. Well, maybe not exactly, but it wasn't that far off from the truth! Noah and nature did not connect on a spiritual level. He had accidentally picked up a book of poetry in the library earlier in the day, somehow thinking it was a book on the Albanian potions crisis. Couldn't avoid a good read, eh?
When he'd realised it was actually a book of poems about the Albanian landscape written by an apothecary, he'd lost interest almost immediately. In fact, he'd drifted off into a daydream of sorts. All of his daydreams were odd, naturally, but this one? He couldn't quite figure out why he'd had it. Books in the library at night flew off the shelves and played music from their pages, spiraling through the air and sending pixie dust (of all things) falling like snow onto the tables and... oh, something else. He couldn't remember everything.
No matter. If a book was boring enough to make him space out, it wasn't meant to be in his hands. Using the excuse of being a prefect - just this once! - to be out after curfew, he halted in front of the doors to the library and let himself be calmed by the silence. Hogwarts after dark was a splendid thing!