Out For a Run

[D'rorah Philosophy]

Having left Dylan to his martial arts training in the Room of Requirement that morning, D'rorah set out from the common room, putting aside her books and translations for a run. Having previously been banned from the grounds along with the other students, she had decided to take advantage of the lifting of the ban. The day was overcast and a chill breeze wafted over the grounds, signaling the beginnings of a shift from summer to fall.

She was dressed austerely. It would have been terribly impractical to run in robes, so she had instead changed into a thin turtleneck shirt and a pair of loose pants. The only parts of her body visible were her hands and face. Her eyes and mouth were set in grim determination as she pushed herself, running as though for dear life, as though pursued by the hounds of hell themselves.

Whenever she thought she might slow down, she pushed herself harder. Running was not only training, it was a form of self-flagellation for her... her way of punishing herself for mistakes and wrongs she had committed. As she made her way over the rocky and uneven terrain surrounding the lake, she did her best to avoid pitfalls, though she steadfastly refused to slow her gait.

Finally, a root got the best of her and caught her foot, sending her face-first to the ground. Her momentum was such that, even after falling, her body continued forward for a bit, dragging her along the ground. Cursing, she picked herself up and prepared to continue on her way.

[damian]

"Are you alright?" a voice called form high up in a tree.

Damian Xavior had been sitting in his usual "sitting tree" abserving the grounds and its people. He had found that by doing his thinking in this place, he could express himself emotionaly or through the arts, and not be desturbed. He ventured out onto this very branch every morning he did not have class, simply to enjoy life itself. He treasured this time of alone-ness and selfness.

He wore his black wool sweater with a white down vest. He wore his casual jeans and tennis shoes. He liked the weather out, the breeze. Damian had his hair pulled back into a neat pony-tail to keep it from his face. His icy blue eyes were covered by the linses of his desinger eyewear.

He watched as an unfamiliar figure moved his way. It was a girl, she was running. He watched her move for a long while, until she reached a spot directly beneath his tree, and fell. Damian jumped from the branch and landed beside the girl.

"You are ok then right?" he asked.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

D'rorah looked up at a boy who seemed to have fallen from the sky. "Yes, I am quite alright," she replied, brushing the dirt from her hands as best she could. She flexed her wrists and ankles, feeling for any possible sprains as she stood there. "The ground here is rather uneven... I suppose that, in my haste, I did not pay it proper attention," she explained.

She eyed the individual standing before her for a moment. Then, figuring it would be quite rude to withhold an introduction of herself, she added, "My name is D'rorah Philosophy. I would offer to shake your hand, but I am not certain the gesture would be appreciated much," she remarked, referring to hands now dirty from her tumble. "Thank you for your concern."

As Damian was wearing muggle clothes rather than house robes, she wondered what house he might be in. Obviously, he was not a Ravenclaw or she would have recognized him. She had relatively little interaction with the other houses, so any of them was a possibility, really. She noticed that his clothes, though casual, seemed neat. The sweater and vest in particular reminded her of something she would have seen her neighbors wear back home... those prep school boys bound for Harvard, Yale, or Princeton. He seemed the sort whom she might have met through her father's work, and given his American accent, she thought it possible. And of course, obviously being a wizard, there was little chance he would be the sort to seek a muggle university degree. Though she herself did hold a Master's from Harvard in Linguistics, it wasn't a fact she shared with many, knowing wizardkind's typical disdain for muggle pursuits.

He seemed somewhat familiar, and as she considered him, the boy's features finally brought forth recognition. "You are from the Xavior family, correct? Damian Xavior?" She remembered the name finally as one she had heard before from her father. "Odd how many fellow Americans I seem to be finding at Hogwart's," she remarked casually.

[damian]

He was somewhat, but not completely surprised at finding a fellow American at Hogwarts. Let alone one who knew him by name. Damian gazed at the girl, as one might at a family member whos name they'd forgotten, then he held out his hand. "Yes, Im an Xavior...and Damian too." he confessed awkwardly. He wondered how she knew so much about him just by apperance. He thought that maybe the must have met.

"Im sorry but...Do I know you?" he asked. "Part of th reason I came to this school, wa to get away from the people I knew back home....They dont think of my family as very...honorable." he answered to her look of bewilderment.

She does seem a bit... famialiar... he thought.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

D'rorah shook her head. "My apologies. No, I do not believe we have met. My father worked for the International Council of Magic... I grew up well-acquainted with the names of the more powerful wizarding families. I believe I recalled your visage from a photograph I had seen previously."

She nodded in understanding about his reason for leaving the country. "I promise, I shall not bring it up again," she added simply as she shook his hand. "Nevertheless, it is my pleasure to meet you."

[damian]

Damian sighed. He was relieved she didnt care about his family name. Although, he couldnt shake the feeling that he knew her...he just starred oddly at the girl. She was curious, very. He was never the type to forget a face...

Maybe it was a past life or something..." he guessed. He gave up his plea of recognition and retreated to the base of his tree. He leaned with his back on the stump and faced the girl.

"D'rorah... Your name is beautiful by the way. But, I find it rather sad that we have met on such awfull terms. You know, me out of the tree and all." he gestured to the treetops. "But maybe I'll have the pleasure of meeting you in a much more...favorable place?" he suggested. SHe was very interesting indeed.

[D'rorah Philosophy]

D'rorah noted Damian's curious gaze and paid little attention. Her appearance was such that people tended to look upon her curiously often... what with her pale complexion and severe form of dress. Not many people would wear so many clothes for a simple run around the lake...of course, not many people had flesh covered with scars from trauma inflicted by the Shadow Mage to cover.

She watched as he retreated to the base of his tree. "Thank you, I am rather fond of my name, personally. It means 'freedom'." She laughed slightly as he mentioned meeting next time in a more favorable place. "Yes, perhaps I will not be quite so clumsy next time you see me," she quipped, referring to her own tumble. "I should continue my run... but perhaps we will see one another soon."

She knelt down to re-tie her shoelaces as she prepared to head out once again. She had miles to run and still a shift to work at Ollivander's today.