Up in a Tree
Week Name/Date/Time: "Back to School"/September 10/7:00 PM (right after dinner)
Location: up in a tree, by the Lake
Open To: Zoe Clarke
Currently Involving: Trefor Llewellyn
Trefor sat, somewhat awkwardly, atop a large branch of some magical tree whose name he would have known had he paid attention in Herbology. Balancing himself rather precariously about 12 feet above the ground, he was certain none of the students wandering below on the grounds could see him, so he placed his worn, leather-bound sketchbook on his lap, and tapped the cover with his wand, whispering "Quadrophenia". It was an album by one of the old muggle bands his father listened to, the Who, and served as his current password for the charmed book. He slipped his wand back into his robes, took out a pencil, and flipped through pages of sketches from the last six months or so. There were a few here and there of his family, Soren's family, random landscaping, snitches, and the like. Alomst all of them, though, were of a girl; the same girl in everyone, in various poses and states of emotion; a girl he had witessed in just about every state a girl can be in.
Opening to a blank page, he heaved a great sigh before setting his pencil to the paper. He had been hiding like this a lot in the first week of his seventh year. This was not at all what he had planned. He planned to be King of Hogwarts. He planned to be everywhere, and, well, with everyone. But only one person filled his thoughts. He couldn't bring himself to do much but go to class and meals, and in between, he mostly just found a quiet place to do his work or draw, all the time thinking of her. Always her. He thought he was over her, thought it was finished. He had tried to be with other girls, tried to move on, and just be her friend. But everytime he saw her, everytime she spoke to him, and laughed and acted, like, well, herself, he melted inside. He wanted to be with her. He wanted nothing more than to be with her.
But he had messed that up. He was too immature, too insensitive at the time to realize what he was doing, and had completely screwed things up. So here he was, pathetically reduced to hiding in trees by himself, drawing what he couldn't have.
Location: up in a tree, by the Lake
Open To: Zoe Clarke
Currently Involving: Trefor Llewellyn
Trefor sat, somewhat awkwardly, atop a large branch of some magical tree whose name he would have known had he paid attention in Herbology. Balancing himself rather precariously about 12 feet above the ground, he was certain none of the students wandering below on the grounds could see him, so he placed his worn, leather-bound sketchbook on his lap, and tapped the cover with his wand, whispering "Quadrophenia". It was an album by one of the old muggle bands his father listened to, the Who, and served as his current password for the charmed book. He slipped his wand back into his robes, took out a pencil, and flipped through pages of sketches from the last six months or so. There were a few here and there of his family, Soren's family, random landscaping, snitches, and the like. Alomst all of them, though, were of a girl; the same girl in everyone, in various poses and states of emotion; a girl he had witessed in just about every state a girl can be in.
Opening to a blank page, he heaved a great sigh before setting his pencil to the paper. He had been hiding like this a lot in the first week of his seventh year. This was not at all what he had planned. He planned to be King of Hogwarts. He planned to be everywhere, and, well, with everyone. But only one person filled his thoughts. He couldn't bring himself to do much but go to class and meals, and in between, he mostly just found a quiet place to do his work or draw, all the time thinking of her. Always her. He thought he was over her, thought it was finished. He had tried to be with other girls, tried to move on, and just be her friend. But everytime he saw her, everytime she spoke to him, and laughed and acted, like, well, herself, he melted inside. He wanted to be with her. He wanted nothing more than to be with her.
But he had messed that up. He was too immature, too insensitive at the time to realize what he was doing, and had completely screwed things up. So here he was, pathetically reduced to hiding in trees by himself, drawing what he couldn't have.