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Post by Bryan Kelley on Jul 3, 2008 13:59:11 GMT -5
There was better things Bryan could have been doing. He could have been doing homework or seeking out D'rorah and finding and learning more about his powers as an Elemental Master. However, the Gryffindor had instead meandered out into the cold weather and had seated himself out in the stands of the Quidditch field. There was much that Bryan didn't know, but he had, for the moment, decided not to dwell over it. He would probably find out in time.
He was not going to live his life completely by his ignorance or worrying over it. Instead, he tried to continue on with a normal existence, whatever normal truly was. Normal was, for Bryan, avoiding homework and hiding himself away somewhere to do some sketching. Today, his hide-away was the Quidditch field. When Bryan had arrived there was an impromptu Quidditch game being played by some students. They were too high up for Bryan to distinguish exactly which house the players belong to.
Bryan was not a die-hard quidditch fan. He only played when asked and that was rarely now a days. So the Gryffindor did not seek to go and join the team but rather made his way into the stands. Seating himself down next to wall, Bryan pulled out his sketchbook. The book was still rather new as it showed a crisp, clean cover --- which was already starting to show some wear and tear on it --- and only about ten pages of the book was filled with sketches so far. Bryan opened the tome to a fresh page.
He propped his foot up on the bench in front of him and rested the sketchbook on the top of his knee which was now serving as a sort of table. He closed up his bag and stored it against the wall before he grabbed his sketchbook and slid down into the feet area of the bench behind him. Bryan's legs were now at an angle, allowing him to have his sketchbook on a closer to vertical surface than when he was sitting proper on the bench. The Gryffindor pulled his pencil from behind his ear and started to sketch as the figures that flew in the air. It was more of a task, since they were moving targets but Bryan did not complain, but just worked diligently on capturing the quick moving fliers.
His sketches were quick and showing more of a interest towards the different positions the fliers went into rather than complete detail. Bryan worked on these sketches until the quidditch players stopped playing and returned to the castle. However, Bryan turned his attention then to fine tuning the quick sketches into more detailed drawings, using his memory for references now since the real life figures were gone now. |
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Post by elizabethknightley on Jul 3, 2008 20:22:09 GMT -5
Elizabeth hadn't been herself since her first year at Hogwarts, the year she met them. Her so called friends. They were a group of mischievous Slytherins that her parents nor her peers approved of. Half of them filled their lungs with nicotine, were close to suffering from alcohol poisoning, stole, or failed every class they ever started. That is, if they didn't try to pay their professors off with a healthy sum of money. She could hardly remember a time when her guilt mattered and "treat others the way you'd like to be treated" were rules to live by. People knew her as mean and reckless now, without a care in the world and a heart as cold as ice.
She truly shined when she was on her own, showing her true self without the pressure of her fellow house mates. They were the reason she was failing academically, the reason she now needed a tutor if she didn't want to fail her sixth year. Her family wasn't rich like everyone else's' she knew which made transferring money to one of her many disappointed professors near impossible.For the first time in a long while she was actually beginning to care. Her social life was pushed aside and she was ready to hit the books. If only she knew where to start.
Her books were piled along the bleachers at the Quidditch Pitch, papers scattered this way and that. "Transfiguration, chapter one," she whispered aloud, opening her books and skimming the first page over. Before she even made it to the second page her study time was cut short by her disinterest in the subject. "This so isn't working," Elizabeth mumbled, slamming her book shut and sliding it to the side.
"Right. Homework.. Chapter twenty-one, numbers one through..," Her quill moved furiously across her parchment paper, but as soon as the lid to her ink bottle was closed it began to roll down each set of bleacher. Down the fifth, then the fourth, stopping when it nearly fell on some poor boy's back. "Crap!," Liz exclaimed, quite literally beginning to chase after it. "I'm uhm..sorry," she muttered sympathetically, not yet seeing the crest on the boy's uniform.
Her own was in plain view, along with her skirt and the tie that matched. "Who knew Transfiguration could be so dangerous..," she trailed off, attempting to smile. You'd be surprised how hard it could be after snarling for so long. "It won't happen again, honest." She snatched the bottle up from beside him, making sure it was closed tight. She was trying her best to avoid eye contact. |
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Post by Bryan Kelley on Jul 7, 2008 16:02:26 GMT -5
Comfortably situated in the stands, Bryan sketched out a rough outline of one of the figures he had drawn when there had been quidditch players up in the air. He focused on copying the action lines he had drawn in the earlier sketches, flipping the page of his sketchbook back and forth as he compared the two. They were not identical as Bryan smoothed the lines and the fluidity of the scene of movement according to his eye and what looked good. He was starting to add a little more detailed to the rough figure, cleaning up the lines. As Bryan did this he was unaware that there was another person also seated in the stands.
Instead, Bryan was concentrating on his sketching. Th boy was using his own memory as a reference and at the moment he had stretched out his own hand to see how it went, how the fingers curled before he turned his attention back to sketching what he had just mimicked with his own hand. However, Bryan's pencil hovered over the page as he heard a soft clunking that was getting louder. He blinked. Something had hit him in the back. It didn't hurt; it was more like a soft tap. He blinked again as he turned slightly to see an ink bottle rolling in a circle on its side.
Bryan noticed as a hand reached out and picked up the ink bottle while a voice was apologizing. The Gryffindor tilted his head back to look up at the Slytherin girl that was still speaking, babbling on about Transfiguration being dangerous. "It's alright," he stated with a smile. "Every subject is dangerous, they just don't tell you that so they can keep torturing you," he continued with a slight smile.
Sliding his pencil behind his left ear, Bryan pulled himself out feet area of the stands and onto the bench. The crest on his robes then became visible. Bryan did not think much about it. He had never cared much about the houses and who was in which one. He did not think much about the girl being the rivalry house of his own house. However, he was aware that some people did care about that stuff. Bryan propped his feet on the bench infront of him. He rested his sketch book on his lap opened to the page he had been working on.
"At least the bottle wasn't open," he stated with a smile. |
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