Quote:
Originally Posted by
Krel Ansell 
Mmm….the sun ws nice and warm today.
Daisy was sitting on a bench, back against a column, Confronting the Faceless balancing on her knee. One hand idly scratched at her wool socks. On her shoulder sat her chameleon-newt, Astrid, who was currently enjoying a sun-nap while maintaining a decent shade of black to blend in with the color of Daisy’s robes. If one looked close enough, they might see that the lizard was starting to turn a slight pink around the edges. He burned easily.
Daisy flipped a page in the book and glanced up to take a look around the courtyard. It was getting a bit busy. A few more students and she might not have enough quiet to continue with her reading.
She turned her attention back to her book just as someone walked by. She read one sentence, and got distracted. Daisy was not one who was easily distracted. She glanced up again, wondering what caused it and found herself watching a boy walking away from her. The back of his head looked familiar.
“Wait a minute,” she said softly as she put her feet down on the ground and stood up. It was Damien. The Damien who had stood her up in Diagon. The Damien who hadn’t returned her last owl. The book in her hand closed as a scowl formed on her face and soon it was sailing through the air towards Damien’s head.
The idea of heading up to the Library crossed his mind just then. Maybe if he brought the book he'd found to the librarian, she could steer him in the direction of other forms of literature that might offer some additional information regarding his -- predicament.
Yes, because
that was the right word to describe recurring nightmares and hallucinations --
THUD
"Oye there!" he yelled, rubbing the back of his head as a blunt object came in contact with his cranium. Looking to the ground he picked up a rather large, dense book. As blurry as his vision was after the impact, he bent down to pick up the book in one hand, rubbing the back of his head with the other. "Who the blo --" but as he turned around on his heels, his eyes fell upon a familiar-looking Gryffindor -- and he then had a feeling who the culprit might've been.
Daisy.
Whoops.
Wincing from the pain, and a slight ringing in his ears, Damien walked up to where she sat, same itchy wool socks she complained about, and what looked like to be a pink-ish/black-ish glob of something wiggling on her robes. He looked down at the book before slowly outstretching his arm to hand it back to her.
"Nice aim," he said simply -- judging from the disgruntled look on her face, the book was actually
meant to hit him.