(no subject)
Week Name/Date/Time: 'Promises and Plans' / Wednesday, 12 October / 2:30 PM
Location: Seventh Floor
Open To: Anyone passing through
Currently Involving: Will, Tyra, Jack
This mystery room was certainly a puzzler.
He was certain he and Liesl had not imagined it. In fact, he distinctly remembered the door appearing right here, on this little stretch of wall. He remembered glancing across the hallway at the picture of the dancing trolls. And it wasn't as though he easily forgot things either. His memory was impeccible.
And yet here he was, yet again, staring at the blank wall and wondering what in the world they'd done last time to be able to get in. He wanted to see the garden again, wanted somewhere to relax and escape...in fact, escape was becoming near enough of an addiction. The real world was a cold, cruel place, right? So why put up with it if you didn't have to? It seemed a good enough reason to him.
The room, however, seemed to think otherwise. The wall was resolutely blank, no matter how many times he prodded, poked, shoved, kicked, cursed, or made faces at it. It was, however, providing him with something to do...then again, this was Gryffindor territory, and often enough there'd be one passing by, and he'd have to quickly mask whatever he was doing. Usually by staring at that stupid troll painting as though it honestly amused him anymore.
By this point in the afternoon, however, he was ready to give up. He'd spent nearly an hour here trying to crack how, exactly to get in, and it seemed just as well to head outside for a while instead. And there he stood, hands shoved into his pockets, looking distinctly more ruffled than usual, and giving the wall a very dark look indeed.
Fine. He didn't want to get in ANYWAY. Stupid room.
Location: Seventh Floor
Open To: Anyone passing through
Currently Involving: Will, Tyra, Jack
This mystery room was certainly a puzzler.
He was certain he and Liesl had not imagined it. In fact, he distinctly remembered the door appearing right here, on this little stretch of wall. He remembered glancing across the hallway at the picture of the dancing trolls. And it wasn't as though he easily forgot things either. His memory was impeccible.
And yet here he was, yet again, staring at the blank wall and wondering what in the world they'd done last time to be able to get in. He wanted to see the garden again, wanted somewhere to relax and escape...in fact, escape was becoming near enough of an addiction. The real world was a cold, cruel place, right? So why put up with it if you didn't have to? It seemed a good enough reason to him.
The room, however, seemed to think otherwise. The wall was resolutely blank, no matter how many times he prodded, poked, shoved, kicked, cursed, or made faces at it. It was, however, providing him with something to do...then again, this was Gryffindor territory, and often enough there'd be one passing by, and he'd have to quickly mask whatever he was doing. Usually by staring at that stupid troll painting as though it honestly amused him anymore.
By this point in the afternoon, however, he was ready to give up. He'd spent nearly an hour here trying to crack how, exactly to get in, and it seemed just as well to head outside for a while instead. And there he stood, hands shoved into his pockets, looking distinctly more ruffled than usual, and giving the wall a very dark look indeed.
Fine. He didn't want to get in ANYWAY. Stupid room.