Rehearsal Room

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The Poet, The Painter, and The Performer  PV   Cl 

PV with Samara Heart & Bella Hills {the title is too long to add that}

    Alexx, a lone tuba player, sat in the back far right of the room, playing a soft tune on the silver brass horn. She had discovered this room long ago in her first year, where she had since discovered the instrument. If her assumptions were correct, no one else used the instrument.

    This room was home to many of artists, not just that of the music kind. It had supplies for every kind of the performing arts and provided a safe haven to anyone seeking solitude and comfort in their craft after a long day. Alexx never took this room for granted.

    A soft breeze pushed her blonde hair back, taking her away from her musical trance. Someone had entered the room. This was not the first time someone had entered the room while she was already in it. Prior to this occasion, it happened on her first evening after discovering it. As it wasn't a rare occurrence, she did feel the need to introduce herself or greet them; most people liked being left alone while they were delving into their craft. The pale blonde girl was not one of those and was friendly to all, but she dared not assume anyone else was or wasn't. No, she knew better than that.

    So needless to say, the stranger who had entered was not a concern for the time being.

Strength:7 Agility:6 Control:5 Stamina:8

The Poet, The Painter, and The Performer  PV   Cl 

Samara Heart has been wondering the halls for hours looking for a place tranquil enough to start writing again. The Ravenclaw dorm was loud, the classrooms were either locked or in use, the courtyard was way to busy and the hallways weren’t solitary enough. It was this line of reasoning that lead her towards the rehearsal room.

As she approached yet another staircase she could hear a faint melody coming from somewhere, it appeared to be a brass instrument of some kind.
On a whim, Samara decided to follow it, and quickly found herself in front of a door that had a small plaque reading “Rehearsal Room”.

“Sterling silver soul.” Sam muttered, “Heart of brass.” She tapped her pen against her bottom lip, this music was already getting her imagination going. She had to go in, so she steeled herself and opened the door.

Inside the room was a girl with long flowing blonde hair playing a tuba, if the girl knew Sam was there then she didn’t show it, and just continued playing. So Samara spotted a confortable looking red armchair in the back left corner of the room, next to a window showing the pelting rain outside. It was close enough to the fire to be comfortable, but far enough away to not overheat.
“Perfect.” Samara thought.

As Sam settled down in the chair she cracked open the leather-bound journal her mother had gotten her as a going away present.

Any good poem needed a title, and Sam thought for a second before writing “The Performer.”

The Poet, The Painter, and The Performer  PV   Cl 

The rehearsal room was a place she had been coming to right from the start of her First Year. She had been told 'fairy tales' from 'long ago' of her mothers own time at Hogwarts. Having heard of the times the young Ella Easton of Gryffindor had spent in the rehearsal room, the newly sorted Slytherin had decided to seek it out on her second day of school.

Now, this room was a place where she came the most. If you couldn't find her anywhere else, she would be in the rehearsal room. The decades of students that had come and go through this room enraptured her, and she loved knowing that there was a history within these walls.

The strange thing about this trip to her place however was the fact there were two people, already there. In the duration of her first year the visits had been a lone affair, so it was odd to see people there.

She used that place for art, to practice her painting or drawing. She had originally wanted to do that today, but with the presence of not one but two students she chickened out. Embarrassment was not something she felt often. She had been told in the past people wished they had her confidence. But her art was something she was somehow self conscious about.

But it was the confidence she had that caused her to talk to the two complete strangers within the room, even with the feeling of self consciousness bugging her at the back of her mind. "Hello! I like this room, don't you? It's nice here. I've been coming here since the beginning of my first yer. Do you guys come here a lot? I basically lived in here last year."

Isabella refused to sit in an awkward silence. It was one of her pet peeves. In her opinion, awkward silences needed to go crawl into a hole, get stupefied, and stay there for all eternity.
After three days it's FINALLY up ; ). I'm sowwy it took so long and it's really short and I don't like it but I just needed to get something up. I promise the next ones will be longer.


You see? Even death has a heart.

The Poet, The Painter, and The Performer  PV   Cl 

Alexx glanced up as the second stranger to walk through the doors had entered. The sea that was her blue eyes watched carefully as this girl, less closed off than the first, took in the room. It was true that it was uncommon to see this many people all in at the same time.

The stranger finally broke the silence, her confident voice catching Alexx's attention that had previously gone back to correcting some bits of music. "Hello! I like this room, don't you? It's nice here. I've been coming here since the beginning of my first yer. Do you guys come here a lot? I basically lived in here last year." The girl spoke, her voice cheerful.

A set of pale lips turned into a soft and friendly smile, and a full head of blonde hair began to nod. "Yes, me as well. The room is quite convenient, actually. I discovered it last year on accident." She responded, her polite smile never leaving her pale face.

Though she was a tad flustered, as the feeling of the awkward silence from before still floated about in the atmosphere. But she remained calm and composed herself very well. She tossed a bit of her long, blonde hair behind her shoulder and readjusted her position in her seat.

Her instrument, which lay flat across her lap, shifted in her grip as she moved. It sat unused and would remain that way until the conversation had ended. Besides, she wasn't in a rush.

Finally taking notice of those around her, she would see a girl hunched over a notebook, and then another girl who appeared to be an artist of sorts. What an odd bunch, whose fate had sealed them all to be in the same room at the same time. Three different sections of the fine arts, all together. Alexx was unsure if this was ironic or beautiful.

But she wasn't opposed to making conversation with the two, no matter how ironically beautiful the situation had appeared.

"My name is Alexx, by the way." She figured that if she was going to make any sort of conversation, she should at least have the courtesy of introducing herself. "But you," She started again, pointing at the painter. "already know that, yes?" It was then that she remembered the girl she had shared a cabin with over the summer, how could she have forgotten? The two had attempted to convince December Hale to sleep in the same cabin as everyone else. In fact, Isabella, the name just now coming to Alexx, had bunked under her. "Isabella, correct?"

Strength:7 Agility:6 Control:5 Stamina:8

The Poet, The Painter, and The Performer  PV   Cl 

"Oui, je suis Isabella. Tu es celui qui parle Français?" While she had been almost 100% sure about her ex-cabinmate being the only student she had spoken French to in her time at Hogwarts, she thought it would be best to check. After growing up with a French speaking mother, the language of love was second nature to her. If did, in fact, speak French as she thought then the other Slytherin would have no problem understanding her - if she didn't then she may as well look like a crazy person speaking gibberish.

Turning to the second, unnamed girl in the room, Isabella spoke - in English this time. "I'm Isabella, as you probably heard before. But you can call me Bella. Slytherin, Second Year." Introducing her house and year after her name had become as natural as walking to her. Hogwarts had such a big roll in the wizarding world that ex-students even asked her house and year when she found herself around them. And current students usually asked her house straight away anyway. It saved her the trouble of having to tell them later.

The awkwardness between the three was obvious, or to her it was anyway. In an attempt to break the ice that was so clear between the three, she moved to third girl - who was holding some kind of book or journal. "Is that a journal? What are you writing? I mean, you don't have to share if you don't want to - it's perfectly fine."

Making it evident that she didn't have to share if she didn't want to, Isabella left her spot in the rehearsal room to move closer towards the younger of the trio. Seating herself on the arm of the chair the coloured hair girl had sat herself in, she peered over at the words and writing on the pages of her book.

"Can I sit here? I'm not invading your personal bubble or anything am I? I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything." Usually acting before she thought, Isabella had sat down on the arm of the armchair without thinking to ask its temporary owner if she could - only realizing she might be one of those people who liked their personal space after she had been seated there for a few seconds. She thought it might be best to check with the girl before continuing to sit there.
Oui, je suis Isabella | Yes, I'm Isabella
Tu es celui qui parle Français? | You are the one that speaks French?


You see? Even death has a heart.

The Poet, The Painter, and The Performer  PV   Cl 

Samara had just finished her poem when she heard someone talking to her. She blinked and then rubbed her eyes and turned to face the newcomer, Isabella she thought she said. The girl with long wavy brown hair, soft blue eyes, and olive skin. The girl was leaning over her and asking exitedly about what Sam was writing. Sam had finished “The Performer” a while ago and had moved on to a poem about the idea of an endlessly kind spirit. Samara herself was a nurturer at heart and had wanted to write something that resonated with her.

“Hi, I’m Sam. It’s okay you’re not invading my space I just tend to get caught up in my own thoughts.” She attempted to smile at Bella but it faltered part of the way through, Sam just wasn’t feeling at home the way she used to.

“I’m writing a poem, you can read it if you want. I just finished it, I always liked the idea of a kind hedge witch so I wanted to write something about a witch that helps the people of a town. Thriving communities are important, or at least I always thought so.” Sam tucked a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes back behind her ear.

She waved to the other girl in the room, “Hello, I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier I just didn’t want to interrupt your playing.”

The Poet, The Painter, and The Performer  PV   Cl 

Her brilliant eyes danced as Bella spoke, the familiar tongue ringing in her ears so naturally that the very sound waves sent a passionate flame through her body, jolting down her spine and through her arms. A sense of home was present, igniting her dying embers that once refused to light, setting her off into the warmth and comfort of the home she so missed. It brought peace in her body and mind to recall such people existed; those who still carry the thought of her home with them, even without the knowledge that they did so. She smiled, her pearly white teeth flashing out. "The one that speaks French" she had called her. Yes, she was the one who spoke French.

"Ah- Tu es L'autre qui parle la même langue que moi. Je me souviens maintenant." She spoke skillfully, nodding her head.

Blue gems sparkled as they moved to glance down at the younger girl, whom of which Alexx had already noted the presence of before, but had yet to say anything. The writer, she remembered, even more so as the girl announced that she had written a poem. Her blonde hair fell to the side as she cocked her head, biting the inside of her lip, just enough to sting but not enough to draw that crimson red that became familiar from years of biting her lip.

“Hello, I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier I just didn’t want to interrupt your playing.”

Her beautiful locks moved once more, this time bouncing as she nodded. "It is quite alright, I do not mind." She assured her, smiling gently at the girl. Her facial features were now soft and caring, as her mood had shifted to a more joyful one than she may have presented before.

A smarter person may have asked why it was that the small girl from France did not ever reach out to Bella, especially after hearing her speak her language all those months back. It had felt like a lifetime since Alexx heard the familiar words. There was not many to speak to here, none that really knew the language much like Alexx and Bella. Heartbreaking as it were, Alexx trudged on day after day, confusing the poor souls around her whenever she spoke on instinct.

In a more unnatural state, her words just then would have been all French. Even though Alexx was more than familiar, more than comfortable even, with English, her brain lived and breathed the scent of France, it still danced in the streets of Paris, still slept in a safehouse in Chivaniac. Her mind remembered the days of her more younger youth, the days in which she was the freest. She was but a bird in France, a mere crow that forever roamed every ally, every hole-in-the-wall, every street and doc. Her wings begged to take her home when she was trapped in the pits of despair, but alas. She was here.

And it wasn't as though she hated Hogwarts. No, she loved it, adored it even. The girl had met faces that would forever be familiar, and learned to live in the same area as all of these people. But her body begged to be somewhere else. She would forever be in debt to the Hills girl for bringing her home in a sense, reminding her that all is not forgotten. It truly was inspiring.

Tu es L'autre qui parle la même langue que moi. Je me souviens maintenant. - You are the other one who speaks the same tongue as I. I remember now.

Strength:7 Agility:6 Control:5 Stamina:8