Definitely Not Trespassing
Reducio
@ Solomon Lear
Greg. Jo whispered, climbing the stairs one step at a time. Greg, Greg, Greg. She continued to recite the password monotonously, repeating it with every step. Now she was singing it - a habit she picked up from a song from some Muggle movie, the name of which now had inconveniently decided to erase itself from her memory. She began to sing the song now, in a quiet and warbling soprano.
Whenever I feel afraid/I strike a careless pose
Greg, she thought aloud, taking a few more steps.
And whistle a happy tune/and noone ever knows I’m afraid
Having now reached the final step, she grabbed ahold of a banister and swung herself around dramatically.
The result of this deception /Is very strange to tell
Jo found herself wagging her finger at a bewildered portrait of an old lady as she jazz-squared her way to the stone gargoyle.
For when I fool the people I fear/I fool myself as we…
Jo stopped abruptly, finding the door open. Hmm, wasn't expecting that.
The room was empty, except for a gaggle of astonishingly ugly pink and purple creatures that scurried and tumbled around restlessly.
Suddenly, the young Gryffindor found herself gripped by fear. What if she was caught? The door was open - he'd probably heard her singing! Solomon Lear himself, the great wizard who tamed a Doxy. (Back when it was unthinkable, of course.) She shivered.
And even a Chimaera! Jo tried to imagine him in all his former glory, erasing the years and scars from his face, briefly wondering what his hair used to look like. She saw him now, wielding a giant sword and wearing sparkly armour, a magical Hercules facing against the gargantuan Greek lion-beast that had killed Dal Llewellyn the Quidditch Player.
She was terrified of him - that was for sure. Even if his accomplishments weren’t enough to make a little girl cry, his hardened and scarred face certainly was.
Despite all this, she knew she couldn’t leave now. She just couldn’t, not without seeing that hat. Merlin! she cried aloud. What had she done to deserve this?
With a determined sigh, Jo tiptoed inside the office and took a look around.
The first thing she saw was the crackling fireplace. This must be how he Floos to all of his adventures, she thought, stepping aside to escape a rolling Pygmy Puff. She rolled her eyes and pushed another away as it tried to latch its foul tongue onto her face. Stop that! she snapped, wiping at her cheek, smearing around its disgusting saliva.
Where was that darned hat!?
Portraits of many men and women adorned the walls, most of whom were elderly. Their eyes were closed as if they were sleeping. Boom! Jo tossed a playful middle finger at one, and almost screamed when the woman's eyes popped open. A shaky swear word escaped her lips as she bowed in apology to the painting. Living pictures... those would certainly take a while to get used to.
Finally she found the Sorting Hat, sitting on a dusty shelf, its eyes closed as if it were just another portrait waiting to jump-scare a foolish student. She steadied herself, and spoke.
Hello, Mr. Hat.
No reply. Jo coughed and cleared her throat.
Mr. Sorting Hat! she squeaked, a fraction louder.
The tip of the hat twitched. Leave me be, Miss Morgan. it mumbled, wiggling disdainfully from side to side.
I'm here to ask about...
The hat groaned. Your father. I know. It elongated itself upwards in a stretch and yawned.
My decision is final, Miss Morgan. You're a Gryffindor, and that's that!
Jo sighed.
You ought to know I'm never wrong. The hat seemed almost to be warning her, and she took a step back.
Yes, I know, but...
And as for your father, that is a journey you must face alone. You won't like what you find - I can tell you that certainly enough. But I cannot tell you his name.
But you knew him! You sorted him into Slytherin!
Indeed I did, Miss Morgan. And sometimes I think... was I correct? But I am always correct. We both know your father was a Slytherin. He was born one and he died one!
And I am not? Jo asked indignantly. She was nearing anger now, and it was very hard to calm her down once she was.
Like I told you before, Slytherin will corrupt you. It will reward you if you are treacherous and turn your heart to stone. Your compassion will be punished and your ruthlessness and shrewdness praised. You told me proudly that you would destroy everything in your path to achieve your goals. You hear the words of a determined young hero, Miss Morgan, but I hear the words of a villain. The evil within you is inchoate, but I the Sorting Hat take no chances. Gryffindor will quash this seed. Slytherin will nurture it. You could be a villain, you know. You could end up like your father. You could be the best villain of our age! Would you like to burn cities and raise the dead, young lady? Is your "goal" to torment the innocent and bring ruin to years of accomplishment?the Sorting Hat bellowed loudly, and Jo felt every shred of courage left in her body flee at once at its thundering voice. No.she choked, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t know what she wanted, so for now she contented herself with sobbing loudly.
A warm, cozy fireplace. Loyal and righteous friends who never fear to speak their minds. Is this not exactly what you need, Miss Morgan? Every first-year thinks I'm wrong, Miss Morgan. You're the third person in here this week to gripe and whine at me! Every child knows what they want, but fail to see what they need!
So...this is all to contain me? Fix me? Set me on the right path? Jo sulked, quelling her obnoxious tears just long enough to choke out the rhetorical questions. She wasn't even asking it anymore - she just wanted someone to complain to.
Yes. It is. Do not become your father. Good day, Miss Morgan.
Mr. Hat… she protested.
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, the hat suddenly roared, and began to sing the remaining verses as if to drown out Jo’s voice.
She stood there for a while, listening to an ancient and wise sentient creature angrily slamming its rasping voice against each syllable of a children's ditty.
Sensing that Jo had no intention of leaving immediately, it twisted around and spat,
Solomon! The child won't let me alone! Well? Do something!
Reducio
OOC: If you don’t want to rp or if Jo shouldn’t be In the room, please just let me know! Thank you so much!
Last edited by Jo Morgan on 6 Dec 2019, 08:13, edited 1 time in total.
"Out here, the wild ones are taming the fear within me.
Scared to call them my friends and be broken again; Is this hope just a mystical dream?"
Definitely Not Trespassing
Actually, the scene was not what one would expect at all. Logically, that would have been how this should have went. A talkative sorting hat, an office filled almost hazardously so with pygmy puffskeins all named Greg and a Headmaster sitting behind his station tending to a pile of papers that seemingly had little or no use. However, that was not what the young girl would see in Solomon's office at all.
First, the door was close. In fact the door was locked, but not locked very well. The knob would refuse to turn but the inward pressure of a hand would tell a different story as the door was easily pushed open. The weight of the door the only burden truly, the bar would not catch the frame. Why? Well, it would appear that the frame was broken. As the door was pushed open, the wood would sag as if it had been in disrepair for decades rather than a few short hours or days.
Inside the room, it appeared neat. Incredibly neat. But also wrong for anyone who might have known the Headmaster. The walls were bare, the enduring witnesses to all that went on in this office had been placed somewhere else. The herd of fluffy guardians that infested the bookshelves, corners and furniture appeared to also be absent. Finally the hat was no where to be found. That tattered sentient hat resided on the very top shelf for most of the year, but seemingly not today.
The desk was clear of clutter. The ink was sealed and a quill rested in its holder. Everything appeared to be in perfect order, as if the former Professor tidied up right before he left.
First, the door was close. In fact the door was locked, but not locked very well. The knob would refuse to turn but the inward pressure of a hand would tell a different story as the door was easily pushed open. The weight of the door the only burden truly, the bar would not catch the frame. Why? Well, it would appear that the frame was broken. As the door was pushed open, the wood would sag as if it had been in disrepair for decades rather than a few short hours or days.
Inside the room, it appeared neat. Incredibly neat. But also wrong for anyone who might have known the Headmaster. The walls were bare, the enduring witnesses to all that went on in this office had been placed somewhere else. The herd of fluffy guardians that infested the bookshelves, corners and furniture appeared to also be absent. Finally the hat was no where to be found. That tattered sentient hat resided on the very top shelf for most of the year, but seemingly not today.
The desk was clear of clutter. The ink was sealed and a quill rested in its holder. Everything appeared to be in perfect order, as if the former Professor tidied up right before he left.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Definitely Not Trespassing
That was what she had prepared for - every detail of the conversation already finished in her glum mind. But as she pushed the door open, she heard a crack. The frame seemed to be broken. Undaunted, she entered, and was faced with the startling truth - the office in pristine condition, as if the Headmaster had never existed at all.
This was…wrong. It wasn’t Headmaster Lear. Perhaps the work of an overzealous cleaning by some janitorial house elf trying to secure a promotion? No - it couldn’t be that - a house elf wouldn’t and couldn’t have single-handedly dispatched every single pygmy puff she was told would be roaming around the office. A House Elf wouldn’t have stripped the walls bare. And where was the sorting hat? It was the only reason Jo was even here in the first place.
Quite wary and almost afraid, Jo tiptoed her way across the eerily silent room to the shelf where it was supposed to lay. Nothing. This couldn’t be right.
Jo brushed the layers of dust off of a chair and sat down, but jumped out of it just as quickly and bent down to inspect it. Dust. There were layers of dust on a chair in the Headmaster’s office - where dozens of students a day should be sitting.
I’ll wait for him - the Headmaster, I mean. Jo said aloud rather loudly to whatever entity could be in the room - most likely nothing, but this was a magical school, and she could never be too sure. She was also somewhat scared - no, terrified.
Quivering, the first-year took a seat and began to silently gaze at the empty shelves and barren tables, trying and trying and trying to shake off the feeling that something was wrong, terribly wrong.
Something was wrong, terribly wrong.
This was…wrong. It wasn’t Headmaster Lear. Perhaps the work of an overzealous cleaning by some janitorial house elf trying to secure a promotion? No - it couldn’t be that - a house elf wouldn’t and couldn’t have single-handedly dispatched every single pygmy puff she was told would be roaming around the office. A House Elf wouldn’t have stripped the walls bare. And where was the sorting hat? It was the only reason Jo was even here in the first place.
Quite wary and almost afraid, Jo tiptoed her way across the eerily silent room to the shelf where it was supposed to lay. Nothing. This couldn’t be right.
Jo brushed the layers of dust off of a chair and sat down, but jumped out of it just as quickly and bent down to inspect it. Dust. There were layers of dust on a chair in the Headmaster’s office - where dozens of students a day should be sitting.
I’ll wait for him - the Headmaster, I mean. Jo said aloud rather loudly to whatever entity could be in the room - most likely nothing, but this was a magical school, and she could never be too sure. She was also somewhat scared - no, terrified.
Quivering, the first-year took a seat and began to silently gaze at the empty shelves and barren tables, trying and trying and trying to shake off the feeling that something was wrong, terribly wrong.
Something was wrong, terribly wrong.
"Out here, the wild ones are taming the fear within me.
Scared to call them my friends and be broken again; Is this hope just a mystical dream?"
Definitely Not Trespassing
Was there anyone in here? If so, they were well hidden as Jo Morgan traversed the threshold of the Headmaster's Office. She did not belong here, she was definitely trespassing. And from the looks of it, she was totally going to get away with it.
Jo made her way across the floor of the Headmaster's Office and not a single pygmy puff would cross her path. She would note a thin layer of dust on the chairs in the office, while the presence of students in the headmaster's office was grossly overestimated, the dust was still incredibly unusual. Upon closer assessment of the place where the sorting hat was supposed to sit, she would see a ring of dust around the perimeter of where the hat was supposed to sit. A contradictory fact if what the girl believed was true was actually true.
I’ll wait for him - the Headmaster, I mean.
She would announce, as the breath escaped her mouth a small tumbleweed of flamingo-colored fur rolled across the shelf. She would take a seat, the chair would creek and her line of sight would lower. Her line of sight parallel with the desk. From this angle there was something askew. A pair of seams down the center of the the desk.
Also, a bit lower to the ground she could see the floor of the fireplace. The fireplace was in need of cleaning, the ash was particularly thick. For an office so clean, it was a bit unusual to see a dirty fireplace. The Headmaster's fireplace in particular for a number of reasons, although the young student would not know the reasons it was so unusual but even a young girl such as her can easily tell that there was something unusual.
Jo made her way across the floor of the Headmaster's Office and not a single pygmy puff would cross her path. She would note a thin layer of dust on the chairs in the office, while the presence of students in the headmaster's office was grossly overestimated, the dust was still incredibly unusual. Upon closer assessment of the place where the sorting hat was supposed to sit, she would see a ring of dust around the perimeter of where the hat was supposed to sit. A contradictory fact if what the girl believed was true was actually true.
I’ll wait for him - the Headmaster, I mean.
She would announce, as the breath escaped her mouth a small tumbleweed of flamingo-colored fur rolled across the shelf. She would take a seat, the chair would creek and her line of sight would lower. Her line of sight parallel with the desk. From this angle there was something askew. A pair of seams down the center of the the desk.
Also, a bit lower to the ground she could see the floor of the fireplace. The fireplace was in need of cleaning, the ash was particularly thick. For an office so clean, it was a bit unusual to see a dirty fireplace. The Headmaster's fireplace in particular for a number of reasons, although the young student would not know the reasons it was so unusual but even a young girl such as her can easily tell that there was something unusual.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Definitely Not Trespassing
A creaky chair in the Headmaster’s office? No. No way. He was the most important person in the entire school, and even the chairs in the Gryffindor Common Room never creaked. And…what was up with those seams in the desk? Did something happen here? Maybe there was some kind of fight. Headmaster Lear did have quite the temper, according to some professors.
Speaking of professors, perhaps she needed to alert a teacher… Professor MacTavish would do - he was the nicest by far and smiled a lot, and she knew he would try to help out.
She stood up and immediately regretted it - She’d have to go outside to the grounds, and in order to that she would need to get her coat and gloves form the dorm room, and in order to do that she’d need to leave the Headmaster’s office. What if a prefect saw her and the broken door frame? She could get suspended for sure, and Jo was not about to disappoint Lady Aithne by coming home mid-semester. This was her only chance to find out more about her parents.
She arched her back and loudly cracked it as her eyes fell on a fireplace. The young witch immediately knew something was up. There was ash scattered everywhere, and that would never have happened if a house elf had just cleaned up the place. Perhaps Headmaster Lear retired or quit. That must be why everything had moved! But then why would the Sorting Hat be removed? It should always be on the shelf, right? Either way, Headmaster Lear MUST have flooed somewhere in a hurry. That was the only explanation for such a dirty fireplace. Perhaps something terrible had happened, and he had gone to the Ministry of Magic for help. A bit bored, she yawned and bent down to examine the ash in the fireplace, taking a bit of the grey powder on her fingertips and sniffing, then licking it. She wasn't sure what she expected - the substance was without a doubt regular old boring ash.
Looking around the room for the fourth or fifth time, a queer feeling dawned on the first-year - it was that “feeling” from all of the horror movies, where someone goes, “I think we’re being watched” and then they actually are - by a ghost or a killer or something stupid. However, she probably wasn’t being watched - the Gryffindor knew that she could be panicky at times, especially when things weren’t going as planned. And today surely wasn’t going as planned. Where in the world was Headmaster Lear?
Suddenly, she sneezed. Bewildered, the girl looked around. There was pygmy puff fur somewhere in the office, which meant that either a pygmy puff was actually in the room, or a cleaning house elf wasn’t doing their job correctly.
A thought sprang to her mind - Headmaster Lear could be in the room, using an Invisibility Cloak! That was certainly an option, although on second thought it would explain nothing except for his absence.
Headmaster Lear? Her squeaky, crystalline voice echoed through the room.
It wasn't really Headmaster Lear that she needed - it was that damned Sorting Hat. Either way, she was going to get to this bottom of this strange situation whatever it took. She'd already broken a rule by entering, so she'd do what she needed to until she discovered the truth.
She tried again. Headmaster Lear? Is anybody here?
A hint of anger crept into the girl. If there was someone here, maniac killer, Pygmy Puff, Headmaster or otherwise, he or she had better answer quickly before Jo lost her temper.
I won't go until someone tells me what's going on! She raised her voice now, puffing her cheeks out in irritation and plopping into a chair as if she was the Headmaster herself, demanding an explanation from a curiously empty room.
Speaking of professors, perhaps she needed to alert a teacher… Professor MacTavish would do - he was the nicest by far and smiled a lot, and she knew he would try to help out.
She stood up and immediately regretted it - She’d have to go outside to the grounds, and in order to that she would need to get her coat and gloves form the dorm room, and in order to do that she’d need to leave the Headmaster’s office. What if a prefect saw her and the broken door frame? She could get suspended for sure, and Jo was not about to disappoint Lady Aithne by coming home mid-semester. This was her only chance to find out more about her parents.
She arched her back and loudly cracked it as her eyes fell on a fireplace. The young witch immediately knew something was up. There was ash scattered everywhere, and that would never have happened if a house elf had just cleaned up the place. Perhaps Headmaster Lear retired or quit. That must be why everything had moved! But then why would the Sorting Hat be removed? It should always be on the shelf, right? Either way, Headmaster Lear MUST have flooed somewhere in a hurry. That was the only explanation for such a dirty fireplace. Perhaps something terrible had happened, and he had gone to the Ministry of Magic for help. A bit bored, she yawned and bent down to examine the ash in the fireplace, taking a bit of the grey powder on her fingertips and sniffing, then licking it. She wasn't sure what she expected - the substance was without a doubt regular old boring ash.
Looking around the room for the fourth or fifth time, a queer feeling dawned on the first-year - it was that “feeling” from all of the horror movies, where someone goes, “I think we’re being watched” and then they actually are - by a ghost or a killer or something stupid. However, she probably wasn’t being watched - the Gryffindor knew that she could be panicky at times, especially when things weren’t going as planned. And today surely wasn’t going as planned. Where in the world was Headmaster Lear?
Suddenly, she sneezed. Bewildered, the girl looked around. There was pygmy puff fur somewhere in the office, which meant that either a pygmy puff was actually in the room, or a cleaning house elf wasn’t doing their job correctly.
A thought sprang to her mind - Headmaster Lear could be in the room, using an Invisibility Cloak! That was certainly an option, although on second thought it would explain nothing except for his absence.
Headmaster Lear? Her squeaky, crystalline voice echoed through the room.
It wasn't really Headmaster Lear that she needed - it was that damned Sorting Hat. Either way, she was going to get to this bottom of this strange situation whatever it took. She'd already broken a rule by entering, so she'd do what she needed to until she discovered the truth.
She tried again. Headmaster Lear? Is anybody here?
A hint of anger crept into the girl. If there was someone here, maniac killer, Pygmy Puff, Headmaster or otherwise, he or she had better answer quickly before Jo lost her temper.
I won't go until someone tells me what's going on! She raised her voice now, puffing her cheeks out in irritation and plopping into a chair as if she was the Headmaster herself, demanding an explanation from a curiously empty room.
"Out here, the wild ones are taming the fear within me.
Scared to call them my friends and be broken again; Is this hope just a mystical dream?"
Definitely Not Trespassing
The girls was briefly fixated but not curious enough to go any deeper as she noted a creaking chair and something off about the Headmaster's desk. Apparently there were rumors about the old man having a temper. If those rumors were true, then the girl was in for a bad time if the Headmaster was lurking here. But why hide from a little girl? Why hide at all when a perfectly good lock would have done the trick? Oh wait, the door was broken.
There was something strange in the fireplace. Amid the ashes, slender small white bits that were no large than her thumb that resembled seashells. There were dozens of small bits, some larger than others. Some were cupped like what she would find at the beach but badly cracked with holes. Others were narrow and straight, thicker than a needle but in most cases not by much. They cluttered the floor here, mixed in with the ash.
Jo was determined to be addressed by the empty room but no hidden man would emerge from their hiding place. However, out of the corner of her eye she would see something scurry across the floor. It resembled a mouse but was brightly colored. The small, purple, furry creature seemed to be making a break for the door as fast as its little legs could take it.
There was something strange in the fireplace. Amid the ashes, slender small white bits that were no large than her thumb that resembled seashells. There were dozens of small bits, some larger than others. Some were cupped like what she would find at the beach but badly cracked with holes. Others were narrow and straight, thicker than a needle but in most cases not by much. They cluttered the floor here, mixed in with the ash.
Jo was determined to be addressed by the empty room but no hidden man would emerge from their hiding place. However, out of the corner of her eye she would see something scurry across the floor. It resembled a mouse but was brightly colored. The small, purple, furry creature seemed to be making a break for the door as fast as its little legs could take it.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Definitely Not Trespassing
Jo knew she should have left. She should have backed right out of that broken door and said “nope” to any trouble.
But she wasn’t about to do that. There was a sort of queer thrill in breaking the rules for the first time, especially if one had justified to oneself the reason for doing so. Jo hadn’t done that, so she thought of an excuse - something that would work with the toughest of Professors. Professor Equinox, perhaps, or Professor Aoi. She shivered. Definitely Professor Aoi.
A thought dawned on her - the Headmaster could be in some sort of danger, what with the smashed doorframe and nasty fireplace and all.
I’m terribly sorry, but I heard a really loud noise and I wanted to make sure that everything was alright.
She rehearsed this phrase in her mind several times, stopping only when a glint in the fireplace caught her eye. Jo almost fell out of her chair as she clambered towards the tiny round object. Once her small fingers had finally grasped it, she held up towards the light to examine in further detail.
It was a piece of seashell. No… no, it wasn’t. Maybe a broken shard of porcelain? She rolled it over in her hand. It was smooth but cracked - a stone or a piece of shell. In fact, there were dozens of these pieces around her. She dropped it into her pocket for further research and brushed a hand through the ash, hoping it would reveal any larger bits that might lend a clue as to the nature of the mysterious shards.
Ow!
A tiny, slender piece no bigger than a needle had pushed through her skin. She gingerly picked it out of her bleeding hand with a small cry, and threw it into the fireplace.
Feeling a bit sulkier and less adventurous now that she had paid the price for her curiosity, the deflated witch was on her way to returning to the dusty seat when she saw a jet of bright color shoot towards the door.
Excited, she scampered after it, emitting a sort of “pspspsps” noise to get its attention. It was highly unlikely that this idiot magic mouse held the key to the Headmaster’s disappearance, but she wasn’t going to let a possible clue get away.
OOC NOTE: Would you rather Jo get bored and leave, or does this office have any secrets waiting to be uncovered? Is there a time that she should return or will the Headmaster be gone for a while?
Just out of curiosity, and I wouldn’t want to waste your time picking at random objects trying to uncover nonexistent clues or things that you’d rather not be revealed just yet.
But she wasn’t about to do that. There was a sort of queer thrill in breaking the rules for the first time, especially if one had justified to oneself the reason for doing so. Jo hadn’t done that, so she thought of an excuse - something that would work with the toughest of Professors. Professor Equinox, perhaps, or Professor Aoi. She shivered. Definitely Professor Aoi.
A thought dawned on her - the Headmaster could be in some sort of danger, what with the smashed doorframe and nasty fireplace and all.
I’m terribly sorry, but I heard a really loud noise and I wanted to make sure that everything was alright.
She rehearsed this phrase in her mind several times, stopping only when a glint in the fireplace caught her eye. Jo almost fell out of her chair as she clambered towards the tiny round object. Once her small fingers had finally grasped it, she held up towards the light to examine in further detail.
It was a piece of seashell. No… no, it wasn’t. Maybe a broken shard of porcelain? She rolled it over in her hand. It was smooth but cracked - a stone or a piece of shell. In fact, there were dozens of these pieces around her. She dropped it into her pocket for further research and brushed a hand through the ash, hoping it would reveal any larger bits that might lend a clue as to the nature of the mysterious shards.
Ow!
A tiny, slender piece no bigger than a needle had pushed through her skin. She gingerly picked it out of her bleeding hand with a small cry, and threw it into the fireplace.
Feeling a bit sulkier and less adventurous now that she had paid the price for her curiosity, the deflated witch was on her way to returning to the dusty seat when she saw a jet of bright color shoot towards the door.
Excited, she scampered after it, emitting a sort of “pspspsps” noise to get its attention. It was highly unlikely that this idiot magic mouse held the key to the Headmaster’s disappearance, but she wasn’t going to let a possible clue get away.
OOC NOTE: Would you rather Jo get bored and leave, or does this office have any secrets waiting to be uncovered? Is there a time that she should return or will the Headmaster be gone for a while?
Just out of curiosity, and I wouldn’t want to waste your time picking at random objects trying to uncover nonexistent clues or things that you’d rather not be revealed just yet.
"Out here, the wild ones are taming the fear within me.
Scared to call them my friends and be broken again; Is this hope just a mystical dream?"
Definitely Not Trespassing
OC: There are totally clues in here. Otherwise I would have DM'd/owled you that I did not want to play or could not play. I am however, slow because I was on shift the past several days with patients.
IC:
There was something very off about this place. First the broken door frame. Second, the empty office. The rumored residents, less one, appeared to be absent. The paintings had been taken down from the walls and the office itself oddly enough looked as if nobody had been there for some time. Had someone left in haste? If so why? Why break down the door?
The girl would sift through the fireplace, the small bits of porcelain... No, it was too dull to be a dish. The color of ivory, the bits that were not burnt. So many and so tiny. She would find a number of these strange, small white, pointy in some cases as one pierced her finger and a drop of blood pooled at the site of the insult. Pointy, dangerous little bugger. There were other, larger bits in there. They were rounded with an uneven surface. More like a terrible thimble that only protects part of the finger.
IC:
There was something very off about this place. First the broken door frame. Second, the empty office. The rumored residents, less one, appeared to be absent. The paintings had been taken down from the walls and the office itself oddly enough looked as if nobody had been there for some time. Had someone left in haste? If so why? Why break down the door?
The girl would sift through the fireplace, the small bits of porcelain... No, it was too dull to be a dish. The color of ivory, the bits that were not burnt. So many and so tiny. She would find a number of these strange, small white, pointy in some cases as one pierced her finger and a drop of blood pooled at the site of the insult. Pointy, dangerous little bugger. There were other, larger bits in there. They were rounded with an uneven surface. More like a terrible thimble that only protects part of the finger.
There were at least six intact but it would appear that there were several others that were broken and buried in the ash. Behind her, a small furry creature tried to scamper off. It was tiny and mouse-like but not in the least aerodynamic. The fluffy little purple creature was making a break for it. A bit rattier than normal, the creature was obviously a pygmy puff like the ones known to 'guard' the Headmaster's Office.
A bit rattier than normal, the skittish creature attempted to dart out of the office.
There is something about ambition, how it not only propels you but also defines you.
Definitely Not Trespassing
@Jo Morgan @Solomon Lear
Rafael wasn’t a worrying sort of person. Things just didn’t get under his skin easily – he had learned the hard way that worrying got you nowhere. De-stressing had helped him a lot in his eleven years. He found that he typically got farther than many people he knew, solely for his lack of fear or social anxiety. But, he would admit with a straight face, that he had been more than a little anxious these past few weeks.
It had disturbed Rafa quite a bit, seeing as the Headmaster hadn’t made a public appearance for quite a while. Which was rather strange – the man had been a more present figure in the school, a jolly old face everyone loved seeing. And though his disappearance may have not disturbed many people, it did set Rafa off quite a bit – there had to have been a reason for his sudden vanishing. He had tried many a day to focus on his schoolwork over this, but with every passing day, it grew harder and harder. No matter what he did, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.
There finally came a day where, having grown restless of waiting for the answers to come to him, Rafa decided to do some recon. Now, Rafa had never been a very smart boy. Whatever he lacked in brains he more than made up physically. But he had to admit, this plan was pretty brilliant. He would go into the office with a discipline issue, scope out the ‘damage’, and leave. He had even worked out a pretty spectacular plan – he had forged a teachers’ note and everything. It was purely ingenius, he had convinced himself. Lear’ll never find out.
He eventually found himself with a free period. Feeling like his lucky break was upon him, he raced to the Headmaster’s Office in the Astronomy Tower. But what he found had disturbed him a bit – the door was slightly ajar, the frame in severe disrepair. His stomach sunk a bit at the sight – it wasn’t at all normal. The room, though, seemed to be empty, as no noise was escaping from it. He had already made up his mind to go explore it –
Before another thought could pass through his mind, a blur of lavender fur darted before his eyes. A Greg, he thought absently. He couldn’t really explain what happened after than perfectly well – he lost 3 seconds worth of memory right then and there. But what he did remember, was a mess of fur in his hands, and a searing pain in his jawbone. He was sprawled on the ground, stomach-first, as if he had dove after it. Stars floated around his vision as he groaned, pushing himself off the ground.
It then occurred to him that he was now in the Headmaster’s Office – just barely, having dove into it. Right off the bat, he began to notice some seriously strange things. The room was immaculate, for one. Way too clean to be normal – Lear’s desk was usually rather unkempt, bringing a homey feel to the office. All the paintings were gone, too. Oh, and not a single pygmy puff graced the room (save for the one in his hand). The room seemed rather dead – it depressed Rafa quite a bit.
He looked down at the tiny creature in his arms It was rather ratty, he noted. He cradled it in his arms for a moment, trying to figure out what was wrong with the setting. “You’re okay, Greg,” he told the creature absently, stroking its soft, poofy fur. This whole situation was giving him a rather sickening feeling – everything felt wrong. It took him a moment to realize that there was another person there. Brown hair, hazel eyes, Gryffindor robes? Jo Morgan. On a normal day, Rafa might have prodded her, but it didn’t seem at all right, given the situation. “What are you doing here?” he asked instead, his question holding a serious, genuine sort of tone.
The next question gave him a pang of anxiety. After seeing the room, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. But he knew more than anything that, once he had something on his mind, it would not leave unless it was resolved. He steeled himself, looking at her with a concerned look. “Where’s Lear?”
Rafael wasn’t a worrying sort of person. Things just didn’t get under his skin easily – he had learned the hard way that worrying got you nowhere. De-stressing had helped him a lot in his eleven years. He found that he typically got farther than many people he knew, solely for his lack of fear or social anxiety. But, he would admit with a straight face, that he had been more than a little anxious these past few weeks.
It had disturbed Rafa quite a bit, seeing as the Headmaster hadn’t made a public appearance for quite a while. Which was rather strange – the man had been a more present figure in the school, a jolly old face everyone loved seeing. And though his disappearance may have not disturbed many people, it did set Rafa off quite a bit – there had to have been a reason for his sudden vanishing. He had tried many a day to focus on his schoolwork over this, but with every passing day, it grew harder and harder. No matter what he did, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was horribly wrong.
There finally came a day where, having grown restless of waiting for the answers to come to him, Rafa decided to do some recon. Now, Rafa had never been a very smart boy. Whatever he lacked in brains he more than made up physically. But he had to admit, this plan was pretty brilliant. He would go into the office with a discipline issue, scope out the ‘damage’, and leave. He had even worked out a pretty spectacular plan – he had forged a teachers’ note and everything. It was purely ingenius, he had convinced himself. Lear’ll never find out.
He eventually found himself with a free period. Feeling like his lucky break was upon him, he raced to the Headmaster’s Office in the Astronomy Tower. But what he found had disturbed him a bit – the door was slightly ajar, the frame in severe disrepair. His stomach sunk a bit at the sight – it wasn’t at all normal. The room, though, seemed to be empty, as no noise was escaping from it. He had already made up his mind to go explore it –
Before another thought could pass through his mind, a blur of lavender fur darted before his eyes. A Greg, he thought absently. He couldn’t really explain what happened after than perfectly well – he lost 3 seconds worth of memory right then and there. But what he did remember, was a mess of fur in his hands, and a searing pain in his jawbone. He was sprawled on the ground, stomach-first, as if he had dove after it. Stars floated around his vision as he groaned, pushing himself off the ground.
It then occurred to him that he was now in the Headmaster’s Office – just barely, having dove into it. Right off the bat, he began to notice some seriously strange things. The room was immaculate, for one. Way too clean to be normal – Lear’s desk was usually rather unkempt, bringing a homey feel to the office. All the paintings were gone, too. Oh, and not a single pygmy puff graced the room (save for the one in his hand). The room seemed rather dead – it depressed Rafa quite a bit.
He looked down at the tiny creature in his arms It was rather ratty, he noted. He cradled it in his arms for a moment, trying to figure out what was wrong with the setting. “You’re okay, Greg,” he told the creature absently, stroking its soft, poofy fur. This whole situation was giving him a rather sickening feeling – everything felt wrong. It took him a moment to realize that there was another person there. Brown hair, hazel eyes, Gryffindor robes? Jo Morgan. On a normal day, Rafa might have prodded her, but it didn’t seem at all right, given the situation. “What are you doing here?” he asked instead, his question holding a serious, genuine sort of tone.
The next question gave him a pang of anxiety. After seeing the room, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer. But he knew more than anything that, once he had something on his mind, it would not leave unless it was resolved. He steeled himself, looking at her with a concerned look. “Where’s Lear?”
Reducio
OOC: I had permission from Jo Morgan to join this thread.
I probably haven't collected my allowance yet.
Definitely Not Trespassing
@Solomon Lear @Rafael D'Spacito
Jo shrieked at the large thump. She’d been caught!
Rafa was in the room. Scratch that, Rafa was on the ground. Why was Rafa on the ground? The Pygmy Puff was in his hands. He cuddled the creature gently as he spoke.
He sounded serious. She didn’t blame him - now wasn’t the time for joking around.
She cringed at his tone. Geez, it was as if he thought she had murdered him or something.
“I don’t know. I just feel like he might be in trouble or something. I can’t explain the feeling, but I really, really don’t like it.”
She sighed shakily. She didn’t want to get yelled at or have to defend herself. If she was going to fight, she preferred doing it from the shadows - spreading rumours or slowly turning their friends against them, giving her enemy the silent treatment were Jo’s favorite ways to battle.
Today was different. Today she didn’t get to be petty or sneaky. Today she’d have to be a Gryffindor.
Ugh. What kind of sitcom shit was this? The “brains” and the “brawn” banded together to solve a mystery. It was straight out of a B-rate children’s movie.
That’s when Jo saw it - glimmering among the ash. It was no bigger than the size of a child’s thumb, but it caught her attention nonetheless.
She ran towards it and picked it up. Here was what she was looking for - a perfect, unbroken version of the tiny pieces of porcelain . Or was it shell? Bone?
A chill crawled down Jo’s spine as she picked up the tiny skull and held it up to the mouse.
“H...holy shit”. the young witch whispered to herself.
She looked sharply at Rafa, her lower lip trembling as she compared the size.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Jo immediately ran over to the fireplace and attempted to stick her head up the chimney.
Jo shrieked at the large thump. She’d been caught!
Rafa was in the room. Scratch that, Rafa was on the ground. Why was Rafa on the ground? The Pygmy Puff was in his hands. He cuddled the creature gently as he spoke.
He sounded serious. She didn’t blame him - now wasn’t the time for joking around.
“I wanted to speak to the Headmaster. But something’s horribly wrong. I can feel it. He hasn’t been around in a while, and... I want answers. I feel like something’s being hidden from me, and I don’t like it.” She looked at the boy imploringly. Normally, this was the point where she would insist that she solve this mystery herself. But her ego would have to wait- something wasn’t right about this situation, and if the time came for her to have to defend herself, she guessed Rafael D’spacito was a solid partner.What are you doing here?
“Where’s Lear?”
She cringed at his tone. Geez, it was as if he thought she had murdered him or something.
“I don’t know. I just feel like he might be in trouble or something. I can’t explain the feeling, but I really, really don’t like it.”
She sighed shakily. She didn’t want to get yelled at or have to defend herself. If she was going to fight, she preferred doing it from the shadows - spreading rumours or slowly turning their friends against them, giving her enemy the silent treatment were Jo’s favorite ways to battle.
Today was different. Today she didn’t get to be petty or sneaky. Today she’d have to be a Gryffindor.
Ugh. What kind of sitcom shit was this? The “brains” and the “brawn” banded together to solve a mystery. It was straight out of a B-rate children’s movie.
That’s when Jo saw it - glimmering among the ash. It was no bigger than the size of a child’s thumb, but it caught her attention nonetheless.
She ran towards it and picked it up. Here was what she was looking for - a perfect, unbroken version of the tiny pieces of porcelain . Or was it shell? Bone?
A chill crawled down Jo’s spine as she picked up the tiny skull and held it up to the mouse.
“H...holy shit”. the young witch whispered to herself.
She looked sharply at Rafa, her lower lip trembling as she compared the size.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Jo immediately ran over to the fireplace and attempted to stick her head up the chimney.
Action: attempt to stick head up chimney and see if anything out of the ordinary is visible.
Last edited by Jo Morgan on 8 Dec 2019, 07:38, edited 2 times in total.
"Out here, the wild ones are taming the fear within me.
Scared to call them my friends and be broken again; Is this hope just a mystical dream?"