(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

[ghostozma]

She went quiet for a moment; he had obviously pushed a button.

"No, I didn't play. But my sister did." Ozma returned to staring out the window, leaving his side. "It was the first year they permitted girls to play, too. She was a Seeker. She was really quite wonderful at it."

[trefor]

"That's amazing. Your sister must have been really good to play right away. Did they win the cup that year?"

Trefor was too focused on his drawing to notice that coldness coming from Ozma. He was off and thinking about Quidditch now. He wondered if he should invite Ozma to a game. Could she go out to the Quidditch field? He really should have payed more attention in class when they discussed ghosts.

[ghostozma]

A strange smile was evoked from that question. "No, they did not. My sister was injured very badly in a match and they had to find a new Seeker for the rest of the season. Training the new player was hard, they were set back by that," she explained quietly. She remembered watching, still invisible at that point, and how morose her sister looked to be sitting in the stands.

She turned to Trefor. "You play, don't you?"

[trefor]

Trefor couldn't help but get a little excited. He dropped his sketchbook and pencil onto the desk and stretched his arms up over his head.

"I'm a seeker, and Captain actually." Trefor's chest puffed out. He wasn't ashamed of being proud. "We're going to win the Cup this year I know it."

His stomach grumbled again this time with more force. He was starting to feel really hungry. He had better go get something to eat before the Great Hall closed for the night.

"Ozma I need to eat, but can I finish your drawing later? When is good for you this week?"

[ghostozma]

"It must be nice to eat," Ozma said dismally. Good Godric, this girl was depressing sometimes. "Anytime is good for me, though," she added a little shyly. No one had done her portrait since, well... since she was alive. She was a little apprehensive to see what it would be like to see a sketch of her as a dead girl, but she knew what her reflection in the glass looked like. It shouldn't be any surprise.

...Only, usually when she examined her ethereal reflection, she smashed the mirrors.

"I'm always around... somewhere. Always." Sort of inescapable, really. "But yes, I do hope Gryffindor wins the Cup and all this year. House pride, you know." She offered him a small smile.

"Have a nice supper."

And with that, she floated out of the room, right through the closed door.

[trefor]

Trefor cleared his throat uncomfortably. As Ozma floated out he called out after her, "How about tomorrow night?" He hoped she had heard him. Packing up his stuff he headed out to find some food.

[OOC: Now Trefor totally isn't going to show up on Monday because he meets up with Zoe. So Ozma if she heard him will be pissed. I figure it gives her a reason to start not liking Zoe and that way their next meeting will be later in the next week.]