 A Poop * k8 *
Nowell had grabbed a book, a bucket, and some sunglasses as he finished off his breakfast, chattered to his Mama about how he wanted her to bring him to the water soon, and then emerged into the fresh sunlight of outside.
"Yes, Mama--I'll put on sunblock--" he shouted at her, in French, before spotting Thornton at the edge of the garden.
THOOOOOORNTON!
Nowell ran, pellmell, at his cousin, grinning broadly as he skidded to a halt next to the canvas. "PAINT ME PAINT ME, THORNTON!" he was excited, very much so, and he slipped his sunglasses onto his face. "OH or maybe we can dig a hole--I DON'T KNOW--" he didn't know WHAT he wanted to do first!
He set the bucket down and stood on his tippy-toes, closed his eyes, and held out his arms to keep his balance. "I have some ballet exercises to practice. I start soon...next week, Thornton!" the instructor had told him that his slender build and pliable limbs were a good fit for ballet...he just needed to catch up to the others his age. It would not be easy, but..Nowell really was willing to try.
__________________ "You can justify anything if you do it poetically enough."
Roman Gellar ● 1st Year ● Slytherin |