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Felixir · 10-28-2015, 01:43 AM

Quote:

Originally Posted by kayquilz

Paul poured himself the tea and went to sit--more like SINK--into the chair behind his desk. His feet hurt...and he was glad to be out of the stink of manure. He had gotten used to it after teaching all day...but now that he was in his nice-smelling office, he could...he was relaxed. Partially sleepy.

He yawned.

"Ahh...good choice, m'boy. That will keep you busy for a few days..." he smiled and sipped his warm drink. "You'll enjoy it." More tea-sipping. Paul followed Daxton's gaze...and found the lack of talking...well...it was quiet, peaceful, harmonious.

"Well, I asked you to have a chat with me, Mr. Prince, because I...am aware that you don't like to talk much." He paused for a few seconds. "It's perfectly fine. However--I don't want you to feel like...you can't communicate with me...or others for that matter. I would feel...awful if I misinterpreted something...or...just couldn't talk to you." He hoped he was making sense? "I can...accommodate you in whatever way you need, Daxton. You just have to tell me...what you need." DID HE MAKE SENSE?

The fact that this professor seemed to think that he could make a judgement call on what Daxton would or would not like was very strange, very suspicious. Daxton did not for one moment believe that the man knew anything about him - other than the most basic information that all of his teachers probably knew - let alone enough to know what he would like. There were few, if any, people in this school with that sort of information at their disposal, and the Ravenclaw liked to keep it that way.

Eventually, he decided he had looked around the office for long enough, and brought his gaze back to rest upon Professor Myers. There had been a lengthy silence since the man had last finished talking, as Daxton could not write and observe the room at the same time, but now he had the opportunity to respond.

And yet he remained silent and still for a few moments longer, regarding the man that sat before him, his thumb running along the corner of the pages of the book he now held, causing them to make that satisfying 'flrrrrp' sound.

'Don't like to talk much' was a fair enough observation, but wrong. The fact of the matter was that at the moment, Daxton quite frankly could not talk. Physically, yes, he had the capability and all the necessary components that made speech possible, he had the vocabulary - and an extensive one at that - and he had managed to speak, however seldom, in the past. But he just... could not. It was difficult to say whether or not he liked to do something when he literally could not even force himself to do it. But... okay. Whatever.

Of course, it did make communication difficult, no matter what anyone wanted, no matter what Myers wanted, or any of the teachers, or Daxton's mother, or Daxton himself... though generally speaking, he was quite content with his isolated life. Sometimes it got frustrating, but he had learnt to stop caring so much, learnt to be okay on his own, and a lack of desire for any real friends made it incredibly easy. Similarly, he had learnt to solve his own problems. If he ever really wanted to communicate with another person, he always had his notebook, or a small selection of people who understood sign language.

These were the things Daxton considered as he mulled over all that Myers had to say. He had not forgotten the man's last sentence, either, the wording of which was always something that brought about something close to defensiveness in the boy. With that in mind, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a regular non-magical pen (he never used a quill unless absolutely necessary... which was never) and leaned across to pull the parchment closer. Daxton took only a moment to neatly print his response on the coarse paper, then pushed it forward for Myers to read, looking up in his general direction with his usual impassive expression etched firmly into his features.

'I do not need anything from anyone.'

Need. Always that word, need. Being accused of needing something was about as bad as being accused of asking for help, of needing help. As far as Daxton was concerned, he, at the grand age of twelve, was too independent, too self-reliant, for either of those things.

10-28-2015, 01:43 AM	#45 (permalink)
Felixir Book Club Mod Alley Proprietor Banshee Join Date: Dec 2008 Location: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Posts: 50,139 Hogwarts RPG Name: Charlie Upstead Gryffindor Fifth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Aurelio Kaiser Slytherin Third Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Alexei Petrov Slytherin First Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Yves Flamel Slytherin Sixth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Achilles Zacharias Ravenclaw Third Year Diagon Alley Proprietor: Ezekiel Ransom-Kruus Ollivanders x12 x12	so sorry this took so long and IS so long i am awful Lovely™ \| Captain Hurted \| Ariana's Bane \| Resident Antagonist \| Unparalleled Delight Quote: Originally Posted by kayquilz Paul poured himself the tea and went to sit--more like SINK--into the chair behind his desk. His feet hurt...and he was glad to be out of the stink of manure. He had gotten used to it after teaching all day...but now that he was in his nice-smelling office, he could...he was relaxed. Partially sleepy. He yawned. "Ahh...good choice, m'boy. That will keep you busy for a few days..." he smiled and sipped his warm drink. "You'll enjoy it." More tea-sipping. Paul followed Daxton's gaze...and found the lack of talking...well...it was quiet, peaceful, harmonious. "Well, I asked you to have a chat with me, Mr. Prince, because I...am aware that you don't like to talk much." He paused for a few seconds. "It's perfectly fine. However--I don't want you to feel like...you can't communicate with me...or others for that matter. I would feel...awful if I misinterpreted something...or...just couldn't talk to you." He hoped he was making sense? "I can...accommodate you in whatever way you need, Daxton. You just have to tell me...what you need." DID HE MAKE SENSE? The fact that this professor seemed to think that he could make a judgement call on what Daxton would or would not like was very strange, very suspicious. Daxton did not for one moment believe that the man knew anything about him - other than the most basic information that all of his teachers probably knew - let alone enough to know what he would like. There were few, if any, people in this school with that sort of information at their disposal, and the Ravenclaw liked to keep it that way. Eventually, he decided he had looked around the office for long enough, and brought his gaze back to rest upon Professor Myers. There had been a lengthy silence since the man had last finished talking, as Daxton could not write and observe the room at the same time, but now he had the opportunity to respond. And yet he remained silent and still for a few moments longer, regarding the man that sat before him, his thumb running along the corner of the pages of the book he now held, causing them to make that satisfying 'flrrrrp' sound. 'Don't like to talk much' was a fair enough observation, but wrong. The fact of the matter was that at the moment, Daxton quite frankly could not talk. Physically, yes, he had the capability and all the necessary components that made speech possible, he had the vocabulary - and an extensive one at that - and he had managed to speak, however seldom, in the past. But he just... could not. It was difficult to say whether or not he liked to do something when he literally could not even force himself to do it. But... okay. Whatever. Of course, it did make communication difficult, no matter what anyone wanted, no matter what Myers wanted, or any of the teachers, or Daxton's mother, or Daxton himself... though generally speaking, he was quite content with his isolated life. Sometimes it got frustrating, but he had learnt to stop caring so much, learnt to be okay on his own, and a lack of desire for any real friends made it incredibly easy. Similarly, he had learnt to solve his own problems. If he ever really wanted to communicate with another person, he always had his notebook, or a small selection of people who understood sign language. These were the things Daxton considered as he mulled over all that Myers had to say. He had not forgotten the man's last sentence, either, the wording of which was always something that brought about something close to defensiveness in the boy. With that in mind, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a regular non-magical pen (he never used a quill unless absolutely necessary... which was never) and leaned across to pull the parchment closer. Daxton took only a moment to neatly print his response on the coarse paper, then pushed it forward for Myers to read, looking up in his general direction with his usual impassive expression etched firmly into his features. 'I do not need anything from anyone.' Need. Always that word, need. Being accused of needing something was about as bad as being accused of asking for help, of needing help. As far as Daxton was concerned, he, at the grand age of twelve, was too independent, too self-reliant, for either of those things. __________________ Days of Potter 2023:___________________________ Which Bertie Botts Flavour Are You? You are Chocolate!