21 Nov 2018, 03:32
A Chirping Conversation
Morfran Griffith was a rather confident man, and he knew it, but only around things he knew he was good at. He was very good with creatures, knew this, and was confident around them. He was good at running, he was confident in his abilities to stay one step ahead of someone trying to chase after him. He was confident in his ability to be a jerk and make people leave him alone. There was one student so far he could tolerate. It made sense, an exception to every rule. Just like the rule that Griffith stayed in the stables also had exceptions. Today was one of those exceptions.
He was walking in the grounds, strolling over the rolling grass with one hand running through his messy, long hair. He knew the hair plus his rather scraggly beard made him look like an old codger, and wasn’t entirely happy with that, but it helped keep people away. He took his hand down from his head and placed it opposite the other in the deep pockets of his long leather jacket.
It had made a lot of sense before, when he didn’t really have a home or place of residence, and didn’t want anyone to care about or distract him, but here it was beginning to feel wrong. He was probably supposed to be nicer to the students, was probably supposed to do something about his appearance and put honest effort into making a few connections. If he did, this place could eventually become his home, right?
He took deep breaths of the clean, fresh air and couldn’t help but feel at peace, which in turn led to a rather guilty stab of his conscious, which reminded him of what he had done to the Slytherin Head of House. She had been trying to help, and he had effectively shunted her out. There was nothing left to be done about it, really. He wasn’t going to go to her, that would be even more insulting. It would be making a trifle of a pretty big wrong that he would own up to when the time came.
Morfran Griffith was a tall man, with long legs. His strides easily brought him to the top of a small rise, where he sat down, then laid down as he listened for the birds he knew were up and about. It took only a few minutes of patience before he heard a singular chirp from some bushes. He responded to it was a few chirps of his own, and soon had a little conversation going with the bird. He didn’t know what the bird was saying, and he was reasonably certain the bird didn’t know what he was saying, but it was a good way to spend a day. Life was undeniably good.
He was walking in the grounds, strolling over the rolling grass with one hand running through his messy, long hair. He knew the hair plus his rather scraggly beard made him look like an old codger, and wasn’t entirely happy with that, but it helped keep people away. He took his hand down from his head and placed it opposite the other in the deep pockets of his long leather jacket.
It had made a lot of sense before, when he didn’t really have a home or place of residence, and didn’t want anyone to care about or distract him, but here it was beginning to feel wrong. He was probably supposed to be nicer to the students, was probably supposed to do something about his appearance and put honest effort into making a few connections. If he did, this place could eventually become his home, right?
He took deep breaths of the clean, fresh air and couldn’t help but feel at peace, which in turn led to a rather guilty stab of his conscious, which reminded him of what he had done to the Slytherin Head of House. She had been trying to help, and he had effectively shunted her out. There was nothing left to be done about it, really. He wasn’t going to go to her, that would be even more insulting. It would be making a trifle of a pretty big wrong that he would own up to when the time came.
Morfran Griffith was a tall man, with long legs. His strides easily brought him to the top of a small rise, where he sat down, then laid down as he listened for the birds he knew were up and about. It took only a few minutes of patience before he heard a singular chirp from some bushes. He responded to it was a few chirps of his own, and soon had a little conversation going with the bird. He didn’t know what the bird was saying, and he was reasonably certain the bird didn’t know what he was saying, but it was a good way to spend a day. Life was undeniably good.
Last edited by Amadea Campbell on 23 Nov 2018, 23:12, edited 1 time in total.
“If this is a complaint would you mind sending it with an owl? It's easier to ignore."