Thread: The Fireplace
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Old 02-17-2017, 02:14 AM   #37 (permalink)
Felixir

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Quote:
Originally Posted by nicole black View Post
Her dorm felt colder lately. Perhaps it was the harsher February wind sneaking in through the windows or perhaps it was just that she noticed it where before she'd barely paid the condition in the dorms any mind.

That conclusion made more sense.

She was noticing a lot more of her surroundings lately. Things like the rough feel of the parchment under her thumbs, the scent of the wood burning merrily in the fireplace before her, and even the sounds of the crackling mixing with the soft whispers from the other students gathered nearby all seemed distractingly loud and very present.

It was incredibly irratating, to the point that the witch was having a hard time concentrating on the small book she'd picked out for her pleasure.

Clearing her throat, Aslan turned the page and went right back to reading, or tried to, but the words seemed to repeat themselves over and over, but the words seemed to repeat themselves over and over and nothing of the Library's copy of the Tale's of Beedle The Bard were sinking in. With a frustrated, but dull glare Aslan closed the book and instead turned her attention to the glowing embers of the fire.
The library was not the first place one might look to locate one Abraham Botros Jr., on account of all the books in there that he would never read. But actually, sometimes he didn't actually want to be located, because actually it was pretty tough to always be all energetic and confident and some days he liked to have a break from all the acting. On days like that, he tended to stick to places where it wasn't easy to get to him (like his dormitory) or where it he wasn't likely to be found (like the library). He just needed to reCHARGE sometimes.

It was funny, because actually libraries were the kind of calm and quiet places that appealed to Abey; he wasn't always loud and ridiculous, you know... that was more like a coping thingywotsit, a kind of 'fake it 'til you MAKE IT' sort of thing. Abey liked the quiet when he tried to paint; being in the middle of chaos didn't really work, and that was usually the best way to describe the Gryffindor common room.

In fact, maybe the library was the best place to try homework...

.......... Nah.

ANyways, there he was, paints and sketchbook tucked under his arm. Naturally, he was drawn towards the warmer part of the library, by that big fireplace; everywhere else was just far too cold, and THAT was a FACT. Winter was AWFUL actually by the way.

There was already someone there, though, someone familiar at that. Mhmm, Abey would recognise this girl anywhere, she was the quiet pretty one. He stood nearby, not quite in front of the fire, nor really close enough to bring attention to himself, and looked at her for a moment, then down at her book, and then at her face again. The flames of the fire were illuminating her in the most fascinating way actually, and threw parts of her into shadow, and the flickering light was MESMERISING... but that could have actually just been her face actually. She always seemed very warm to Abey, even though he had never actually seen her react in a way to people that proved that. It was just... looking at her. She reminded him of fire and earth and also all things to do with home actually. Perhaps it was because of that reason that he decided to properly actually approach her, and not just stare look at her.

"What are you reading?" Were the words that tumbled clumsily from his mouth, rather than any sort of greeting. Oops. His Egyptian accent, though it had started to lessen somewhat before Christmas, was stronger than ever on account of he had gone home for the holidays. Arabic was his language of choice actually usually, though he did tend to flow back and forth between the two when he was upset, excited, or when speaking with family, no matter where he was.

Problem was, now he had spoken, Abey was sort of wishing he hadn't. What if the girl wanted to be left in peace? What if she got upset with Abey for bothering her? Or what if she thought him stupid, because she wasn't ACTUALLY reading right now but he had spoken as if she was. He bit at his lip, and forced himself not to retreat.
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