Tale of two sparks PV

P e o p l e W a t c h i n g

Evenings waddled by in slews of sevens. Each afternoon spent secluded to shared quarters that lacked an air of sympathy. Mornings nonexistent. Each of these are noted down in a pad precisely six inches wide, and six inches tall. The pen in use is an authentic red inked ball point that measures exactly seven inches. All detail is accounted for. Exactly as they should.

Night in and night out, each played to his preferred taste, has thus far continued the way that Warren has felt to be the comfortable path. Notebook in hand, the young boy stared down at the neatly written notes scrawled out in the crimson ink. Night in and night out, he crossed this phrase out, and quickly replaced it with the correct term; Day in and day out.

Not a soul paid the young Kirkland mind. Neither hare nor hide looked his way either out of fear or plain disregard. If he counted correctly, and he was certain he had, approximately four students out of twenty that passed him in his little corner would give him a strange passing glance, but nothing more. Likewise, Warren found it awkward and too warming to attempt a conversation with a warm body unwilling to speak with him. Writing feverishly, he curled into his notebook pressing a small, flat palm as pale as a stained white sheet to the papers corner.

Glasses balanced on the tip of his nose as he finished a small drawing beside a square of text that read as followed.

"A and B continued; Lack of communication. Louise has yet to realize her tie is tied incorrectly. Vincent remains unaware of the weak front left leg of his chair, as he has continued to lean back in it."

"A tranquil venture, innit," Warren spoke softly in a delicate whisper. His words carried nowhere in the grand study. Not a soul looked his way, not that he wished this. Raising his head upward to continue his pass time, Warren pressed the tip of his pen to the top of his paper, a small dot bleeding into the papers thick blankness. Observing the room, he noted the lack of members that belonged to his own house. However, housemates who barely knew him aside, something far more interesting caught his tuned interest.

Through a bit of search and find, Warren's large, deep eyes continued their scan of the study hall before landing atop of a scraggly black head. Thin, ragged hairs peaked his curiosity, as the messy strands were unlike those of a pristine Ravenclaw. Tilting his head ever so slightly, Warren lifted his pen and twirled the tool before flipping the page anew. Upon further watching it became painfully obvious who this sickly white figure was.

Known as a monster, an absolute menace, and above all a total terror. The student in question was none other than the infamous boy who'd caused more trouble than he was worth. Of course, being the people watcher that he was, Warren knew quite a bit about the third year seated with his back to the wall in his own little corner. Nothing personal, but enough to warrant curiosity. There was a severe lack of judgement in the pale boys eyes toward his fellow half-breed. Scanning the frustrated expression written on Kaegen's face, Warren twirled his pen twice before steadily returning to the blank canvas set out before him.

In thick bleeding letters that leaked the crimson of his pen he wrote atop of the page Kaegen Deathmote. A soft click resonated as he flashed the pen nearly out of existence, but was merely a slight of hand trick. Smiling softly to himself, the young boy swiped his People Booklet deep within the hidden crevices of his thick robe replacing it swiftly with a deck of fifty two black cards.

The cards appeared to be made out of a black material with white scratch writing on each side. Homemade cards that exude an aura of minimalism. Black clawed fingers scratched along the decks surface, a wave of cards flipping from palm to pasty palm as Warren hopped out of his chair and began his small journey to the opposite side of the room. Thin locks of wavy platinum hair bobbed between desks, and before long the young second year placed his thick boots firmly down in front of the desk that faced the study.

Cards shuffled, the sound of thick plastic slicing to a hardened palm. Bold eyes the shade of a fresh culling eyed intensely onto Kaegen before softening their hardened gaze. Pulling his usual soft smile, Warren nodded toward the Ravenclaws work, the deck of cards in his right hand seemingly vanishing before being replaced with a simple red pen. A master in the arts of smooth deception, he held out the pen between a sharpened thumb and forefinger.

"I've come to learn that a ball point pen is far less breakable than a quill," he motioned simply, the pen extended outward. He held no malice, no judgement, no pity. There was an outwardly friendliness to his petite smile, yet the knowing gaze settled in the depths of his ringed red puddles spoke a thousand words.

No one is ever alone.

R a i n y

A lurking, smiling shadow. Ominous, unwelcoming, yet lonely. Thoughtfully, it appeared to yearn for an answer to a wordless question it refused to ask. Never to speak, never to know. Alone and large. Note how the shadow appeared to engulf the boy it loomed over like a shaking embrace. Though cold, the dim glow of the boys eyes fought for something new. They searched hard into the depths of Warren's own two eyes, the two boys sharing a brief moment of silence.

So, this is Kaegen, Warren thought to himself allowing his mind to stem away for a seldom breath. Nothing more than a tired boy betrayed by time. The smile that had placed itself easily graced itself further in a toothy flash of teeth. Rather than back away, question Kaegen's shadowed menace, or wonder aloud who he was, the second year set the pen down atop of the desk and reached into his sleeve once more. Drawing out a thin black notebook, he placed it down atop of a free space on the wooden desktop. Looking left and right, the boy made a soft noise as he grabbed a nearby chair and plopped down in front of the lonesome Ravenclaw.

His words, sharp as they were, struck no cord in the petite blonde. Rather than lash out or feign fear, Warren merely shook his head and plucked his cards out into the air, the deck fanning out between his ten fingers. A soft laugh tickled his tongue while he played a small trick on Kaegen, the cards vanishing from sight.

"Nothing of the sort. These are mere slight of hand tricks to make the eye think I'm performing magic, when really... it's all in the fingers," he surmised thoughtfully, a hand twisting cards left and right before they disappeared once more. Grabbing his notebook, Warren opened it easily to a fresh page and tilted his head to the side. Quite suddenly, the stormy glare that had settled onto his small form by the piercing glow of Kaegen's eyes appeared to have calmed. Their dark reflection shifted, and it nearly took the boys breath away.

Rainy.

"As long as you keep the pen is on the page it will write. It's made of a cheap metal of some kind! I believe it's known as an alloy," he pauses shortly to pull out another pen, this one being a deep shade of blue, before continuing in a quiet tone, "I've already clicked yours so that it'll properly scribble, but with a little tick to the back like so it moves smoothly. Plus, the letters aren't nearly as bulky! The page space is increased by tenfold without those pesky feather letters."

The black pen moved in quick scribbles across the top of the blank page opened before him. A name was written, Warren Kirkland, as well as a small doodle that he began to dabble to the page little by little. As Warren began to flick the pen to draw curly wads of hair atop his own head, he spoke in the same gentle voice he had prior, "I couldn't help but notice you struggle. I've been there before, too, and learned quickly that... muggles, though strange and different, aren't too bad after all. Least of all compared to us. After all, there's a bit of human in us all. Even if only slightly."