1 May 2018, 05:55
Veni, Vidi, Vici
Studying a strikingly detailed picture of past Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Dorian wondered what it would have been like to have learned under someone so great. What he knew of her he had obviously read in books, no one ever really talking about the woman, too much in favor of Albus Dumbledore and his overbearing legacy. They never considered the woman who stood behind him and supported his every decision, his every rise and fall and picked up his slack where he might have failed. Dorian suspected that she might have played a more key role in all the good that had ever come out of this school than history cared to acknowledge. But of course, this might all be a figment of his own enamored bias toward the woman. She reminded him so much of his grandmother, Philomena, who worked for the Ministry of Magic. Both women share the quality of being stern yet fair, fiercely loyal and powerful with a no-nonsense attitude. Not only that, but the thing that interested him most about the two was that they were both Animagi.
This was what he aspired to be, his fascination with a wizard's ability to become and experience the joys of being an animal having borne itself from his grandmother's show of pure freedom whenever she transformed into her eagle form and soared through the skies. The way she had described it to him, it was "the best feeling in the world to spread your wings and let the winds take you." He someday wished to experience what the late Headmistress McGonagall and his grandmother Philomena felt and feel respectively when they shift. He felt he was on the right track, having employed his aptitude for keeping up with his studies and maintaining exceptional grades that even his mother would have to be proud of. Not only that, but he had chanced to send in a request to become a part of the Gryffpost, not truly expecting them to accept him given his reputation around the school. To his surprise, he had received word back almost within the same hour, welcoming him as one of their writers. In all truth, he had sat there stunned for the better part of half an hour after receiving the news.
Two things he had managed to accomplish so far. Earning top marks in his classes and being named Pupil of the Month for earning the most house points, and also becoming a writer for the Gryffpost where he would be able to openly do something that he loved. But despite these achievements, he felt there was something missing, something he still needed to do to complete this bout of victories. Reaching up and touching the picture gently, almost reverently, he said "omne trium perfectum" in perfect Latin, appraising the meaning of the phrase. It encompassed the same meaning as the rule of three which suggested that things that came in threes were far more satisfying and left a far larger impact than any other number of things. If he wanted to truly be remembered, he had to do something so great that they would have no choice but to immortalize him here, or anywhere else in the school once his time in it expired. Whatever it was remained, to this point, a mystery, but Dorian knew full well that with determination and effort, he could do great things for and within this school.
With a look of absolute determination on his face, he smiled. "It's settled then. I'll become the youngest Animagus in history or die trying." He looked into the gentle fire contained within the fireplace. "Now the only question is, how do I convince Professor Yornikovich to teach me. I'm doing well in his class and he seems to think I show promise, but that's not going to cut it if I want to approach him with this proposal." Dorian paced the floor, moving away from the painting of the late Headmistress to the one of Albus Dumbledore next to the fireplace, looking the man straight in the eyes as they seemed to have a staring contest. "Either I find a way or I burn the school down and just have them make me famous in Azkaban for doing it." Why the thought had crossed his mind was a wonder, but clearly, he didn't mean a word of it.
"Hmmm..." A thought interrupted his soliloquy, yet served a purpose only to stall his words for a moment. A look of realization seemed to dawn on him and his eyes started to shimmer even brighter in the dim light of the fire. "I'm a Writer for the Gryffpost! Why didn't I think of this sooner?" What was he on about? Apparently, him being a writer for the papers had something to do with whatever thought suddenly had him giddy with glee. Whatever the case may be, he stood there in silence, ruminating on ways that he could use his new position to accomplish whatever it was that he felt it could help him achieve. One thing was for certain. He welcomed the new challenges that he would face throughout the years. This first month of recognition marked the first of many and the true beginning of the rest of his life.
This was what he aspired to be, his fascination with a wizard's ability to become and experience the joys of being an animal having borne itself from his grandmother's show of pure freedom whenever she transformed into her eagle form and soared through the skies. The way she had described it to him, it was "the best feeling in the world to spread your wings and let the winds take you." He someday wished to experience what the late Headmistress McGonagall and his grandmother Philomena felt and feel respectively when they shift. He felt he was on the right track, having employed his aptitude for keeping up with his studies and maintaining exceptional grades that even his mother would have to be proud of. Not only that, but he had chanced to send in a request to become a part of the Gryffpost, not truly expecting them to accept him given his reputation around the school. To his surprise, he had received word back almost within the same hour, welcoming him as one of their writers. In all truth, he had sat there stunned for the better part of half an hour after receiving the news.
Two things he had managed to accomplish so far. Earning top marks in his classes and being named Pupil of the Month for earning the most house points, and also becoming a writer for the Gryffpost where he would be able to openly do something that he loved. But despite these achievements, he felt there was something missing, something he still needed to do to complete this bout of victories. Reaching up and touching the picture gently, almost reverently, he said "omne trium perfectum" in perfect Latin, appraising the meaning of the phrase. It encompassed the same meaning as the rule of three which suggested that things that came in threes were far more satisfying and left a far larger impact than any other number of things. If he wanted to truly be remembered, he had to do something so great that they would have no choice but to immortalize him here, or anywhere else in the school once his time in it expired. Whatever it was remained, to this point, a mystery, but Dorian knew full well that with determination and effort, he could do great things for and within this school.
With a look of absolute determination on his face, he smiled. "It's settled then. I'll become the youngest Animagus in history or die trying." He looked into the gentle fire contained within the fireplace. "Now the only question is, how do I convince Professor Yornikovich to teach me. I'm doing well in his class and he seems to think I show promise, but that's not going to cut it if I want to approach him with this proposal." Dorian paced the floor, moving away from the painting of the late Headmistress to the one of Albus Dumbledore next to the fireplace, looking the man straight in the eyes as they seemed to have a staring contest. "Either I find a way or I burn the school down and just have them make me famous in Azkaban for doing it." Why the thought had crossed his mind was a wonder, but clearly, he didn't mean a word of it.
"Hmmm..." A thought interrupted his soliloquy, yet served a purpose only to stall his words for a moment. A look of realization seemed to dawn on him and his eyes started to shimmer even brighter in the dim light of the fire. "I'm a Writer for the Gryffpost! Why didn't I think of this sooner?" What was he on about? Apparently, him being a writer for the papers had something to do with whatever thought suddenly had him giddy with glee. Whatever the case may be, he stood there in silence, ruminating on ways that he could use his new position to accomplish whatever it was that he felt it could help him achieve. One thing was for certain. He welcomed the new challenges that he would face throughout the years. This first month of recognition marked the first of many and the true beginning of the rest of his life.
Last edited by Dorian Gray on 19 Jun 2018, 09:38, edited 1 time in total.
✧Improvidus, Apto quod Victum✧
Stam: 3, Agi: 3, Str: 4, Con: 7, Arc: 7, Acc: 6
3 May 2018, 01:06
Veni, Vidi, Vici
Having a slow day was something that Sabrina tended to avoid as much as possible. She didn't like having nothing to do, and being unoccupied made her mind run on and on about anything and everything that could make her stress out. Perhaps that was why she was walking through the corridors of the Scottish castle with a novel in hand, her nose buried between the pages. A piece of good fiction could cure just about anyone's boredom. It was her philosophy, and ever since she came up with that, she's been carrying a fiction book in the pocket of her Gryffindor robes.
When Sabrina came to the school, she didn't care about what house she was placed in. She could have been put in Slytherin and still be happy with it. But now that she was here, she couldn't see herself being anywhere else. She had met her lifetime friends in her dormitory, and she had achieved the position of Writer-in-Chief for the Gryffindor Newspaper. That was something that deserved bragging rights. Even though there were some aspects to who she was that contrasted with the guideline traits of a Gryffindor student, she felt like she fit in just perfectly where she was.
Flipping the page, the girl continued the story of Avery, the heroine of the story. She had the power to conjure water and use it to her will, and she had to save the country from the evil king. Sabrina wasn't too far into the story, only about eight chapters, but she was sucked in. She's read this title before, but it had been awhile. And after reading so many books, one would forget the events of a particular event. Especially if they were Sabrina. She forgot most unimportant things, finding no use of remembering them.
She turned a corner, entering the premises of the Small Hall. She took no notice of the boy that stood by the portrait of Minerva McGonagall. That was, until he spoke. Her blue eyes flickered from the pages of her novel to the boy. She recognized him immediately - he was the newest member of the Gryffindor Newspaper. If she knew his name was a whole other topic. Her eyebrows furrowed as she listened to him speak. He didn't seem to notice that she was there, and she almost had half the mind to interrupt him to announce her presence.
His next words were a little concerning - he was seriously risking going to Azkaban trying to become an animagus? She wasn't so sure she was that committed to anything. Her eyebrow quirked, and she folded the corner of her page over to keep her place as she closed the book, tucking it back inside of her pocket. He was talking about being a member of the GryffPost now, and Sabrina took that as her queue. After he had been silent for a few moments, she started to move forward, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.
"Dorian, right?" She asked, kind of surprised that she had said a name without a doubt for once. Last time she met someone in the newspaper team outside of the office, she had called him Andre, when really his name was Anatole. She clasped her hands together in front of her as she looked from the boy to the fire. The colors faded from dark orange to light orange, blue at the base. Something about fire always attracted Sabrina. She loved to watch it lick the walls of the brick fireplace, and let her mind just race. This particular spot she came to a lot to edit articles for the newspaper - it was an inspiration to an extent.
"How are you doing recently?" She asked once she approached him, standing next to him. She was closer to the fire though, and she could feel the heat burning against her calf as though it were right up against it. She pursed her lips slightly, switching her gaze to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore now. "He was quite amazing, wasn't he? Definitely one of the greatest."
When Sabrina came to the school, she didn't care about what house she was placed in. She could have been put in Slytherin and still be happy with it. But now that she was here, she couldn't see herself being anywhere else. She had met her lifetime friends in her dormitory, and she had achieved the position of Writer-in-Chief for the Gryffindor Newspaper. That was something that deserved bragging rights. Even though there were some aspects to who she was that contrasted with the guideline traits of a Gryffindor student, she felt like she fit in just perfectly where she was.
Flipping the page, the girl continued the story of Avery, the heroine of the story. She had the power to conjure water and use it to her will, and she had to save the country from the evil king. Sabrina wasn't too far into the story, only about eight chapters, but she was sucked in. She's read this title before, but it had been awhile. And after reading so many books, one would forget the events of a particular event. Especially if they were Sabrina. She forgot most unimportant things, finding no use of remembering them.
She turned a corner, entering the premises of the Small Hall. She took no notice of the boy that stood by the portrait of Minerva McGonagall. That was, until he spoke. Her blue eyes flickered from the pages of her novel to the boy. She recognized him immediately - he was the newest member of the Gryffindor Newspaper. If she knew his name was a whole other topic. Her eyebrows furrowed as she listened to him speak. He didn't seem to notice that she was there, and she almost had half the mind to interrupt him to announce her presence.
His next words were a little concerning - he was seriously risking going to Azkaban trying to become an animagus? She wasn't so sure she was that committed to anything. Her eyebrow quirked, and she folded the corner of her page over to keep her place as she closed the book, tucking it back inside of her pocket. He was talking about being a member of the GryffPost now, and Sabrina took that as her queue. After he had been silent for a few moments, she started to move forward, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.
"Dorian, right?" She asked, kind of surprised that she had said a name without a doubt for once. Last time she met someone in the newspaper team outside of the office, she had called him Andre, when really his name was Anatole. She clasped her hands together in front of her as she looked from the boy to the fire. The colors faded from dark orange to light orange, blue at the base. Something about fire always attracted Sabrina. She loved to watch it lick the walls of the brick fireplace, and let her mind just race. This particular spot she came to a lot to edit articles for the newspaper - it was an inspiration to an extent.
"How are you doing recently?" She asked once she approached him, standing next to him. She was closer to the fire though, and she could feel the heat burning against her calf as though it were right up against it. She pursed her lips slightly, switching her gaze to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore now. "He was quite amazing, wasn't he? Definitely one of the greatest."
today you are the fire
& tomorrow you will be the sea.
3 May 2018, 05:44
Veni, Vidi, Vici
He was smack in the middle of reveling in some unknown internal victory parade when he heard a female's voice call his name, as if in affirmation. Turning slightly to glance at the newcomer, he first took stock of her eyes which were almost similar to his own in color. A bright and vibrant blue, as blue as the Bay of Biscay. This was not his first time meeting her, but he had never really spoken to her under any circumstances. He had met her maybe once or twice seeing as he was fairly new to the Gryffpost, and those times she had been addressing a room that consisted of other writers for the post. It was for this reason that he had not expected her to remember his name. Amazed, he turned fully to face her, nodding in response to her questioning tone.
"Impressive memory. And of course, everyone knows who you are, Sabrina Hurst. Becoming Writer-in-Chief for the Gryffpost as a first year is no small accomplishment you know." Dorian followed her lithe movements as she made her way closer to him, standing next to the fire. He allowed her next question to linger unanswered for a while, asking it to himself. How was he doing lately? "Does an unhealthy obsession count?" He had answered the question with a question out loud without meaning to. This was said in response to his own mental inquiry, but somehow the words had slipped out. Clearing his throat and giving Sabrina a look as if she had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, he quickly corrected himself, even though what was said couldn't be retracted.
Why he was making a conscious effort to appear more respectable and tame than he actually was in front of the girl was one answer he didn't have, but from an outside perspective, one could say it was because the girl seemed wise beyond her years, much older than her twelve-year-old self. It was the eyes and the way she carried herself. It was also the warmth he could feel radiating from her. "Dumbledore was great and all, but it was her that really sold this school to me," he said, pointing to the portrait of Minerva McGonagall that hung where he had left it only moments ago. But just as he said this his eyes widened before shrinking to squints.
Unceremoniously, he reached forward with his hands on either side of her, grasping her shoulders loosely in his typical show of utter disregard for personal space. "Wait a minute! How much of that did you hear just now?" He was, of course, making reference to his earlier monologue. The reason it had him so rattled was that these plans of his were of a secretive nature. He did not wish for others to know of them until he felt the time was right. He would first have to convince the professor to take him under his paws wings and teach him. Even then he would not reveal his goal to anyone in such a mundane way as simply speaking about it. He wanted to keep the secret so that when he did transform in front of others the shock factor would remain. Not to mention his little tangent about burning down the school...
Realizing how this may seem to the girl he had only just officially met, and who was by all intents and purposes his boss, he released her just as quickly as he had grabbed her and had the good grace to appear sheepish. "Darn these spastic episodes. Someti-It happens every now and again. Don't mind me." A complete lie. Now she would probably think he was crazy. That or she would simply deny the lie and fire him on the spot. She seemed intuitive enough to be able to gauge whether someone was being genuine. It was even in her job description to rest a critical gaze on the facts of a given situation and determine its validity. It was those eyes.
"Impressive memory. And of course, everyone knows who you are, Sabrina Hurst. Becoming Writer-in-Chief for the Gryffpost as a first year is no small accomplishment you know." Dorian followed her lithe movements as she made her way closer to him, standing next to the fire. He allowed her next question to linger unanswered for a while, asking it to himself. How was he doing lately? "Does an unhealthy obsession count?" He had answered the question with a question out loud without meaning to. This was said in response to his own mental inquiry, but somehow the words had slipped out. Clearing his throat and giving Sabrina a look as if she had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar, he quickly corrected himself, even though what was said couldn't be retracted.
Why he was making a conscious effort to appear more respectable and tame than he actually was in front of the girl was one answer he didn't have, but from an outside perspective, one could say it was because the girl seemed wise beyond her years, much older than her twelve-year-old self. It was the eyes and the way she carried herself. It was also the warmth he could feel radiating from her. "Dumbledore was great and all, but it was her that really sold this school to me," he said, pointing to the portrait of Minerva McGonagall that hung where he had left it only moments ago. But just as he said this his eyes widened before shrinking to squints.
Unceremoniously, he reached forward with his hands on either side of her, grasping her shoulders loosely in his typical show of utter disregard for personal space. "Wait a minute! How much of that did you hear just now?" He was, of course, making reference to his earlier monologue. The reason it had him so rattled was that these plans of his were of a secretive nature. He did not wish for others to know of them until he felt the time was right. He would first have to convince the professor to take him under his paws wings and teach him. Even then he would not reveal his goal to anyone in such a mundane way as simply speaking about it. He wanted to keep the secret so that when he did transform in front of others the shock factor would remain. Not to mention his little tangent about burning down the school...
Realizing how this may seem to the girl he had only just officially met, and who was by all intents and purposes his boss, he released her just as quickly as he had grabbed her and had the good grace to appear sheepish. "Darn these spastic episodes. Someti-It happens every now and again. Don't mind me." A complete lie. Now she would probably think he was crazy. That or she would simply deny the lie and fire him on the spot. She seemed intuitive enough to be able to gauge whether someone was being genuine. It was even in her job description to rest a critical gaze on the facts of a given situation and determine its validity. It was those eyes.
✧Improvidus, Apto quod Victum✧
Stam: 3, Agi: 3, Str: 4, Con: 7, Arc: 7, Acc: 6
5 May 2018, 18:39
Veni, Vidi, Vici
The small smile that spread across her pink lips as Dorian commented on her memory was faint, and didn't hold much of a real meaning behind it. It was slightly amusing, though, that someone would use the word 'impressive' to describe her memory, though. A better word for it was 'deficient'. Didn't work all too well, and she was surprised it was working now, when she didn't need it. A time where she did need her good memory, like in Charms class during an assessment, she seemed to stumble. Often. She hadn't expected him to know her name, let alone tell her that everyone knew who she was.
It made her self-aware. Was she known by that many people?
"Well, I'm glad I've seemed to impress at least somebody," The girl shrugged one of her shoulders closest to Dorian, pursing her lips as he spoke of an unhealthy obsession. She wasn't sure if an unhealthy obsession was - er.. healthy, but she assumed it couldn't be too bad. They were only eleven, it wasn't like he could be obsessed with something too bad. Unless it was a person, then it was a little concerning, but somehow she doubted it.
Her ears perked up as he heard him speak again, and she found her eyes following his gesture towards the portrait that he previously stood in front of. The lady - the last Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall - was sat in her chair, stroking her cat. Moving paintings were definitely weird, Sabrina noted as she switched her gaze back to the boy next to her. "Professor McGonagall was a true icon," She noted, nodding her head as though she were agreeing - which she was, to an extent. Minerva McGonagall wasn't the reason Sabrina was at Hogwarts, she had only ever known about Hogwarts. She still held no knowledge of any other wizarding schools.
A gasp came from the girl at the abrupt action of him grabbing her shoulders. She hadn't expected it, as she had zoned out, and she looked at him utterly confused. Her arms had shot up out of surprise, and now clutched onto his forearms. She dropped her hands once she noticed, though. "U-uh," She stumbled over her words, furrowing her eyebrows together as she tried to figure out the right thing to say. "Not.. all of it?" She suggested more than admitted, almost shrugging her shoulders along with it, but finding a way to keep from doing so.
She took a step back once he had let go of her shoulders, and she took a seat in one of the cushioned armchairs that sat by the fire instead. This was one of her favourite places to come, and she was definitely accustomed to editing all of the articles here as well. It was like a small place of solitude - one that not many people came to. Somewhere that Sabrina could find a getaway in, the only other place being sitting by her favourite tree by the Great Lake. Over the months they had been attending Hogwarts, she had found very few places she liked to sit in. Thankfully, the comfort of the armchair made her feel a little more secure - to a degree.
"Does that happen often?" She asked curiously, tipping her head to the side to contemplate it. She wasn't wondering for her own safety, but rather for the fact if she should prepare herself for it. Her intentions were to befriend Dorian, and not much was going to change her mind on doing so.
It made her self-aware. Was she known by that many people?
"Well, I'm glad I've seemed to impress at least somebody," The girl shrugged one of her shoulders closest to Dorian, pursing her lips as he spoke of an unhealthy obsession. She wasn't sure if an unhealthy obsession was - er.. healthy, but she assumed it couldn't be too bad. They were only eleven, it wasn't like he could be obsessed with something too bad. Unless it was a person, then it was a little concerning, but somehow she doubted it.
Her ears perked up as he heard him speak again, and she found her eyes following his gesture towards the portrait that he previously stood in front of. The lady - the last Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall - was sat in her chair, stroking her cat. Moving paintings were definitely weird, Sabrina noted as she switched her gaze back to the boy next to her. "Professor McGonagall was a true icon," She noted, nodding her head as though she were agreeing - which she was, to an extent. Minerva McGonagall wasn't the reason Sabrina was at Hogwarts, she had only ever known about Hogwarts. She still held no knowledge of any other wizarding schools.
A gasp came from the girl at the abrupt action of him grabbing her shoulders. She hadn't expected it, as she had zoned out, and she looked at him utterly confused. Her arms had shot up out of surprise, and now clutched onto his forearms. She dropped her hands once she noticed, though. "U-uh," She stumbled over her words, furrowing her eyebrows together as she tried to figure out the right thing to say. "Not.. all of it?" She suggested more than admitted, almost shrugging her shoulders along with it, but finding a way to keep from doing so.
She took a step back once he had let go of her shoulders, and she took a seat in one of the cushioned armchairs that sat by the fire instead. This was one of her favourite places to come, and she was definitely accustomed to editing all of the articles here as well. It was like a small place of solitude - one that not many people came to. Somewhere that Sabrina could find a getaway in, the only other place being sitting by her favourite tree by the Great Lake. Over the months they had been attending Hogwarts, she had found very few places she liked to sit in. Thankfully, the comfort of the armchair made her feel a little more secure - to a degree.
"Does that happen often?" She asked curiously, tipping her head to the side to contemplate it. She wasn't wondering for her own safety, but rather for the fact if she should prepare herself for it. Her intentions were to befriend Dorian, and not much was going to change her mind on doing so.
today you are the fire
& tomorrow you will be the sea.
7 May 2018, 04:54
Veni, Vidi, Vici
Not all of it. She had said she hadn't heard all of what he had said and in very immediate retrospect he cursed his little show of histrionics. Not only had it been unnecessary, but now she probably thought him to be crazy, a complete loon. All thoughts swirling around his head now pivoted on how best he could go about salvaging his slowly diminishing esteem. He allowed his hands to fall from her shoulders and go limp by his sides, leaving her to take the few steps that brought her to the chair. He watched her actions unblinkingly, taking in how cultured her every gesture seemed, how very dainty she appeared. Honestly speaking, as a person that was so subtle, going against everything he is, she caught him off guard with everything she said and did without actually saying or doing a thing.
The reality that she hadn't yet fled running and screaming was enough to set Dorian's mind at ease to an extent. This meant that he had not yet repelled any chance he might have of becoming friends with the girl. Hopefully, he could keep from saying the wrong thing from this point onward, an endeavor that seemed more like a fairy tale the more he thought about it. Folding his arms and leaning against the wall of the fireplace's opening, he kept up the lie, thinking it too late to turn back now. "Not nearly as often as you might think. I'm not on medication or anything; definitely not that serious." He emitted a nervous laugh that he hoped didn't come off as sounding too forced. Clearing his throat in an abrupt end to the laugh, he continued. "Anyway, let's not talk about all that depressing stuff." He wanted to change the topic quickly before he got to the point of no return.
Righting his stance once again and gesturing with an overly exaggerated flourish of his right hand in a descending motion as he lowered it to meet his waist, he bowed to her in a most resplendent show of deference, almost as if a loyal subject hailing his queen. The way she sat, the way he bowed, and the mise en scène all seemed to paint this picture impressively through the light cast by the dancing flames of the fireplace. "Dorian Gray. First Year Gryffindor, a Writer of the Gryffpost and your average student," he uttered grandiloquently in reintroduction. He did this with the intention of eliciting a smile from her, getting her to relax around him and dash his earlier outburst as nothing more than a fleeting hiccup. When he straightened once more he did so with a grin revealing his rows of pristine white teeth.
"I have some questions while I have your attention. I promise they're nothing overly complex so no need to worry that I'll bore you to sleep." Deciding where to begin, he got down to it, taking a few steps back as if offering her more space to breathe, or think. He adopted his best impersonation of a reporter's voice and hoped for the best, getting straight to the point. "Did you choose to become the Writer-in-Chief or did the position choose you? What compelled you to try out for the starting Seeker position on the Quidditch Team even knowing you already had so much workload being a writer for the post? How have you managed so far? Do you have any future plans of running for Prefect?" The way he asked the questions could be interpreted one of two ways. Either he spaced them out enough and waited until she answered each before moving on, or he strung them all together and expected her to remember each and respond as best as she could. Regardless, he had asked the questions and was waiting with baited breath.
In truth, he wanted to know what motivated her to assume so much responsibility and how she was handling it all. It never occurred to him that his reason for doing so may have something to do with his own shortcomings and a desire to do more buried deep behind layers upon layers of cold hard denial. Dorian didn't struggle with self-esteem, having enough of that to fit into this entire hall and far beyond. What bothered him was the nagging feeling that maybe he shouldn't allow himself to get too attached. He had found that whenever he allowed himself to enjoy something, truly enjoy it, and get so immersed that he loses himself, something tended to happen that would bring him crashing back to earth when reality finally struck in that cruel way it did. Whether it was in the form of people or general circumstance, something always went wrong.
The reality that she hadn't yet fled running and screaming was enough to set Dorian's mind at ease to an extent. This meant that he had not yet repelled any chance he might have of becoming friends with the girl. Hopefully, he could keep from saying the wrong thing from this point onward, an endeavor that seemed more like a fairy tale the more he thought about it. Folding his arms and leaning against the wall of the fireplace's opening, he kept up the lie, thinking it too late to turn back now. "Not nearly as often as you might think. I'm not on medication or anything; definitely not that serious." He emitted a nervous laugh that he hoped didn't come off as sounding too forced. Clearing his throat in an abrupt end to the laugh, he continued. "Anyway, let's not talk about all that depressing stuff." He wanted to change the topic quickly before he got to the point of no return.
Righting his stance once again and gesturing with an overly exaggerated flourish of his right hand in a descending motion as he lowered it to meet his waist, he bowed to her in a most resplendent show of deference, almost as if a loyal subject hailing his queen. The way she sat, the way he bowed, and the mise en scène all seemed to paint this picture impressively through the light cast by the dancing flames of the fireplace. "Dorian Gray. First Year Gryffindor, a Writer of the Gryffpost and your average student," he uttered grandiloquently in reintroduction. He did this with the intention of eliciting a smile from her, getting her to relax around him and dash his earlier outburst as nothing more than a fleeting hiccup. When he straightened once more he did so with a grin revealing his rows of pristine white teeth.
"I have some questions while I have your attention. I promise they're nothing overly complex so no need to worry that I'll bore you to sleep." Deciding where to begin, he got down to it, taking a few steps back as if offering her more space to breathe, or think. He adopted his best impersonation of a reporter's voice and hoped for the best, getting straight to the point. "Did you choose to become the Writer-in-Chief or did the position choose you? What compelled you to try out for the starting Seeker position on the Quidditch Team even knowing you already had so much workload being a writer for the post? How have you managed so far? Do you have any future plans of running for Prefect?" The way he asked the questions could be interpreted one of two ways. Either he spaced them out enough and waited until she answered each before moving on, or he strung them all together and expected her to remember each and respond as best as she could. Regardless, he had asked the questions and was waiting with baited breath.
In truth, he wanted to know what motivated her to assume so much responsibility and how she was handling it all. It never occurred to him that his reason for doing so may have something to do with his own shortcomings and a desire to do more buried deep behind layers upon layers of cold hard denial. Dorian didn't struggle with self-esteem, having enough of that to fit into this entire hall and far beyond. What bothered him was the nagging feeling that maybe he shouldn't allow himself to get too attached. He had found that whenever he allowed himself to enjoy something, truly enjoy it, and get so immersed that he loses himself, something tended to happen that would bring him crashing back to earth when reality finally struck in that cruel way it did. Whether it was in the form of people or general circumstance, something always went wrong.
✧Improvidus, Apto quod Victum✧
Stam: 3, Agi: 3, Str: 4, Con: 7, Arc: 7, Acc: 6
19 May 2018, 02:33
Veni, Vidi, Vici
The red armchair had brought comfort to the small eleven year old girl. Although her feet still couldn't quite touch the ground - she was a measly height of four foot eleven - the seat seemed to envelope her in a way, welcoming her into its confinements. Her back had been naturally straight for forever now it felt like, having been a dancer her whole life it would pounded into her skull that she would feel as though she were sinning if she hadn't sat with a straight posture. Her ankles crossed one another, the crevice between her foot and her ankle fitting like a puzzle piece against her other heel.
Her blue eyes raised to Dorian as he spoke of not needing medication or anything, that it wasn't serious, "Well, not what I was assuming, but that's a good thing then," She mentioned with a grin, which flashed for only a second as her eyes fell back to the floor. She seemed to zone out a lot, and very quickly too. It could be her lack of attention span, or it could be because she had more than enough on her mind for the moment.
This boy's voice seemed to pull her out of it though, once he spoke his name again. The gesture he was making, a bow with one of his arms by his waist, caused the grin to spread across her face once more, pushing at her cheeks, making them ache. The ache in her chest had subsided for this moment, the ache that existed solely for her best friend and no one else. She was unsure how this boy had managed to get her mind off of the boy in the hospital wing, but he had, and for that she would be grateful for a long, long time. She hoped after this that he would wish to continue on with a friendship, because she never really spoke with someone without that intention in mind.
"Sabrina Hurst," She introduced herself, causing an uncontrollable giggle to burst out of her chest into a million butterflies. At least, that's what it seemed like to her. "Writer-in-Chief of the GryffPost, and also your completely average student." It was a silly thing, and she spoke as though she weren't a total mess of a person. At eleven, it seems like the world could come crashing down at any minute, and it was interesting how he hadn't seemed to notice that about her.
An eyebrow of her's quirked up as he stated that he had questions for her. She didn't know what she was expecting, but she still said, "Shoot." She hadn't expected him to come up with four of them though! Pushing the overwhelming feeling off, she tried to relax her shoulders, letting a breath of air out of her system. Where should she even begin? Rubbing her hands together, she took in a breath, preparing herself to lose it once she began to speak. She knew she would probably ramble, but she definitely restrained herself against it.
"Well, uh," She stammered, clearing her throat as a method to try and think better. Surprisingly enough, it worked. "Of course I chose to be Writer-in-Chief for the newspaper. I mean, it was impossible to miss the opportunity, and signing up was easy enough.." She trailed off, trying to recall the next question. Oh, right, why she had chosen to become the seeker of the quidditch team when she had a workload on her shoulders already. "I don't look at quidditch as another job, more like an outlet. It gives me time away from studying and editing and writing, it's something that I can look forward to!
"And I've been managing well. The weekly practices have no effect on my timetable, and it actually makes it a lot more fun," She laughed, raising her eyebrows slightly. It was odd, feeling like you were in the guest seat of some big talk show interview, like Jimmy Fallon. She only knew of him though, because her mother watched his show all of the time when Sabrina was home, claiming that he was 'legendary'. Sabrina couldn't see how someone was legendary if they didn't even know how to cast magic. How ever will they go down in history without it?
"Prefect?" She asked once she finally realized what the last question of his was asking, "No, no, never. Now that would be too much work. The current prefects are amazing at what they do, and there is no way I would be able to live up to the expectations set by them!" She exclaimed, recalling how both her friends - Eris and Rhea - had been prefect now. The current one being Rhea. There were so many ways that the two of them beat her talent-wise, it worried her a bit. She was beginning to feel like she might not be just as amazing as they are. "What about you though, do you have any plans on being prefect?" She asked, trying to get some of the questions off of her, but at the same time, she was really liking answering them.
"Do you have any more questions?" She asked, snapping herself out of it. She had no reason to think negatively, even if her friend was possibly looking like the face of Death itself. She pursed her lips, the grin previously there no more, as she looked up from the floor where her eyes had ended up straying to, and to the other Gryffindor's face. Hopefully, he had some kind of way to boost her spirits, or at least get her mind off of things, and these questions seem like they're helping in one way or another.
Her blue eyes raised to Dorian as he spoke of not needing medication or anything, that it wasn't serious, "Well, not what I was assuming, but that's a good thing then," She mentioned with a grin, which flashed for only a second as her eyes fell back to the floor. She seemed to zone out a lot, and very quickly too. It could be her lack of attention span, or it could be because she had more than enough on her mind for the moment.
This boy's voice seemed to pull her out of it though, once he spoke his name again. The gesture he was making, a bow with one of his arms by his waist, caused the grin to spread across her face once more, pushing at her cheeks, making them ache. The ache in her chest had subsided for this moment, the ache that existed solely for her best friend and no one else. She was unsure how this boy had managed to get her mind off of the boy in the hospital wing, but he had, and for that she would be grateful for a long, long time. She hoped after this that he would wish to continue on with a friendship, because she never really spoke with someone without that intention in mind.
"Sabrina Hurst," She introduced herself, causing an uncontrollable giggle to burst out of her chest into a million butterflies. At least, that's what it seemed like to her. "Writer-in-Chief of the GryffPost, and also your completely average student." It was a silly thing, and she spoke as though she weren't a total mess of a person. At eleven, it seems like the world could come crashing down at any minute, and it was interesting how he hadn't seemed to notice that about her.
An eyebrow of her's quirked up as he stated that he had questions for her. She didn't know what she was expecting, but she still said, "Shoot." She hadn't expected him to come up with four of them though! Pushing the overwhelming feeling off, she tried to relax her shoulders, letting a breath of air out of her system. Where should she even begin? Rubbing her hands together, she took in a breath, preparing herself to lose it once she began to speak. She knew she would probably ramble, but she definitely restrained herself against it.
"Well, uh," She stammered, clearing her throat as a method to try and think better. Surprisingly enough, it worked. "Of course I chose to be Writer-in-Chief for the newspaper. I mean, it was impossible to miss the opportunity, and signing up was easy enough.." She trailed off, trying to recall the next question. Oh, right, why she had chosen to become the seeker of the quidditch team when she had a workload on her shoulders already. "I don't look at quidditch as another job, more like an outlet. It gives me time away from studying and editing and writing, it's something that I can look forward to!
"And I've been managing well. The weekly practices have no effect on my timetable, and it actually makes it a lot more fun," She laughed, raising her eyebrows slightly. It was odd, feeling like you were in the guest seat of some big talk show interview, like Jimmy Fallon. She only knew of him though, because her mother watched his show all of the time when Sabrina was home, claiming that he was 'legendary'. Sabrina couldn't see how someone was legendary if they didn't even know how to cast magic. How ever will they go down in history without it?
"Prefect?" She asked once she finally realized what the last question of his was asking, "No, no, never. Now that would be too much work. The current prefects are amazing at what they do, and there is no way I would be able to live up to the expectations set by them!" She exclaimed, recalling how both her friends - Eris and Rhea - had been prefect now. The current one being Rhea. There were so many ways that the two of them beat her talent-wise, it worried her a bit. She was beginning to feel like she might not be just as amazing as they are. "What about you though, do you have any plans on being prefect?" She asked, trying to get some of the questions off of her, but at the same time, she was really liking answering them.
"Do you have any more questions?" She asked, snapping herself out of it. She had no reason to think negatively, even if her friend was possibly looking like the face of Death itself. She pursed her lips, the grin previously there no more, as she looked up from the floor where her eyes had ended up straying to, and to the other Gryffindor's face. Hopefully, he had some kind of way to boost her spirits, or at least get her mind off of things, and these questions seem like they're helping in one way or another.
today you are the fire
& tomorrow you will be the sea.
28 May 2018, 08:22
Veni, Vidi, Vici
He listened quietly, smiling all the while in an attempt to encourage her to keep going. There was something to be said about the near ambivalence with which she spoke about herself, specifically as it related to becoming a prefect. It almost sounded as if doubt and denial had ingrained themselves deep in her mind in regards to the topic, and Dorian doubted if anything he said or did would change her lackluster motivation to pursue the cause. It was understandable. It did seem like a painful amount of work truth be told, which, subconsciously, was the reason he was already shaking his head when she asked if he, in turn, had any intention of doing the same.
A single, tuneless semblance of a laugh escaped him before he could control himself. Not that he felt the need to anyway. "Me? Become a prefect? I'd pay big money to see that happen honestly." The idea was so far-fetched that he had never entertained it before, but he now started to consider what he would be like as a prefect. Nothing useful came to mind. The most he could envision was him wearing the pin and abusing his authority to dunk some poor kid's head into a toilet for rubbing him the wrong way, or dishing out detention like nobody's business. And that bathroom... "Yeah...no. They'd fire me within the same hour if they were stupid enough to give me the position in the first place." At the very least, he was honest.
When she asked if he had anymore questions to ask her, he uttered "loads" without really meaning to. Hopefully he wasn't coming off as being too rude, because as it stood he was already viewed as enough of am uncultured brute by his peers. He didn't need yet another joining the fray, though he didn't mind what people thought of him. "Just a few actually. Like this article I'm writing for my first ever job as part of the Gryffpost. I'm basically supposed to follow my fellow Gryffindors around the school and spy on them to see what kind of fun they've been getting up to. That I can do. It's just..." He thought about how best to word this so it couldn't be construed as something other than what he meant.
"It's about our transfiguration professor. I want to know how to approach him and actually strike up a conversation, but I think it'll be weird to just walk up to him and be like 'hey prof! What's poppin' Know what I mean?" It even sounded weird to his own ears, and he had been the one to say it. "So I was thinking! I am a writer now, so that should give me some kind of reason to approach him and start asking questions right? All in the name of journalism. Right???" Such failed logic, but it was all he had. While he had Sabrina here he wanted to pick her brain on some pointers. It wasn't like he planned to use the information for evil or anything, though what evil he could get up to with some spoken words from the professor baffled the mind. Dorian looked at Sabrina expectantly, wanting her to have all the answers and be willing to share them with him.
A single, tuneless semblance of a laugh escaped him before he could control himself. Not that he felt the need to anyway. "Me? Become a prefect? I'd pay big money to see that happen honestly." The idea was so far-fetched that he had never entertained it before, but he now started to consider what he would be like as a prefect. Nothing useful came to mind. The most he could envision was him wearing the pin and abusing his authority to dunk some poor kid's head into a toilet for rubbing him the wrong way, or dishing out detention like nobody's business. And that bathroom... "Yeah...no. They'd fire me within the same hour if they were stupid enough to give me the position in the first place." At the very least, he was honest.
When she asked if he had anymore questions to ask her, he uttered "loads" without really meaning to. Hopefully he wasn't coming off as being too rude, because as it stood he was already viewed as enough of am uncultured brute by his peers. He didn't need yet another joining the fray, though he didn't mind what people thought of him. "Just a few actually. Like this article I'm writing for my first ever job as part of the Gryffpost. I'm basically supposed to follow my fellow Gryffindors around the school and spy on them to see what kind of fun they've been getting up to. That I can do. It's just..." He thought about how best to word this so it couldn't be construed as something other than what he meant.
"It's about our transfiguration professor. I want to know how to approach him and actually strike up a conversation, but I think it'll be weird to just walk up to him and be like 'hey prof! What's poppin' Know what I mean?" It even sounded weird to his own ears, and he had been the one to say it. "So I was thinking! I am a writer now, so that should give me some kind of reason to approach him and start asking questions right? All in the name of journalism. Right???" Such failed logic, but it was all he had. While he had Sabrina here he wanted to pick her brain on some pointers. It wasn't like he planned to use the information for evil or anything, though what evil he could get up to with some spoken words from the professor baffled the mind. Dorian looked at Sabrina expectantly, wanting her to have all the answers and be willing to share them with him.
✧Improvidus, Apto quod Victum✧
Stam: 3, Agi: 3, Str: 4, Con: 7, Arc: 7, Acc: 6