Post by alaska6519 on Sept 4, 2009 3:10:10 GMT -5
[Sorry it's so long. They're guaranteed to be shorter after this one.]
Vivienne Cartwright stared at the doors of the Feasting Hall from the stairs leading down to the main hall. She leaned against the marble railing and watched as students filed into the hall, laughing and speaking in loud voices. It was her first meal at the University, and she wasn't ready to join all the students starting their day with breakfast.
Vivienne kept trying to make herself take another stair down toward the open doors, but couldn't accomplish the small task. She gripped her wand in her left hand, which was clammy with anxiety. She hadn't been surrounded by so many people her age in a long time—she had even skipped dinner after her arrival the previous night so that she could avoid the highly trafficked halls of the school. She kept to her dorm until this morning, when she realized that she was starving. But instead of encountering the large groups of students gravitating to their food source, she slept in and missed the rush.
Vivienne's blond hair was combed neatly into a side ponytail, and her peach, freckled face was set in concentration. Vivienne's face in concentration was something amusing though—her mother had once said that her face translated what her sunbconscious mood refused to express. Vivienne didn't know what it had meant then, she was nine.
Her uniform was pressed to perfection, and she stood straight. It was astonishing how she could feel so completely frazzled on the inside, but look as neat as a pin to anyone who glanced her direction. That is, if anyone even noticed her. She had all but magicked herself invisible—not many people paid attention to her. She didn't mind.
It wasn't as if Vivienne was antisocial, afraid of people or large groups, or carried a phobia of some sort that kept her from immediately entering the hall. It was only after living so many years in her quiet home—with all her actions and sounds amplified by all the silence—that Vivienne knew the assemblage and cacophony of a meal at her new school would prove to be a test of sensory overload. She leaned off the railing and sighed to herself. Her stomach yowled unpleasantly. Vivienne took a step down once—slowly. She stepped down again, as if dipping her foot into icy water.
Vivienne warmed up a bit, and heightened her pace. She descended the full staircase and peered around the doorway into the hall. She could see students scattered about, sitting in groups...but it wasn't too full—more people must've skipped breakfast than she had expected. She looked back once, and entered the Feasting hall.
Instantly, she gravitated towards a table that had students of her house, but with a few students thrown in that didn't seem to be of such. However, Vivienne considered that she didn't want to be towards an end—that indicated that she was alone, and planned to stay as such. She picked a spot on a solitary bench in the middle of the room, with other students at least a meter away on all sides.
Vivienne huffed as she sat down and stared at her plate. She heard all the voices congealing into a low roar around her, but it wasn't as bad she she had made it out to be. They were teenagers, not—necessarily—hyenas. They sounded like a muggle television set to background noise. Vivienne felt content. She could handle this. Her mouth watered as she began to fill her plate with eggs, toast, and hashbrowns. Eating without any more delay, Vivienne visibly relaxed and began to look around her. She watched students laugh and tell stories, explain vital points as if in debate, stare at their food while they muttered with mouths full, and gesture madly about how they "almost completely fell off my broom!"
It was almost comforting, Vivienne considered, to be surrounded by people. She wasn't quite there yet. But as she munched soundlessly on the crust of her toast, she decided to be present for more meals. After all, she could find someone to talk to in this fray.
Almost as if her thoughts had been read, someone came up behind her and spoke to the back of her head.
Vivienne Cartwright stared at the doors of the Feasting Hall from the stairs leading down to the main hall. She leaned against the marble railing and watched as students filed into the hall, laughing and speaking in loud voices. It was her first meal at the University, and she wasn't ready to join all the students starting their day with breakfast.
Vivienne kept trying to make herself take another stair down toward the open doors, but couldn't accomplish the small task. She gripped her wand in her left hand, which was clammy with anxiety. She hadn't been surrounded by so many people her age in a long time—she had even skipped dinner after her arrival the previous night so that she could avoid the highly trafficked halls of the school. She kept to her dorm until this morning, when she realized that she was starving. But instead of encountering the large groups of students gravitating to their food source, she slept in and missed the rush.
Vivienne's blond hair was combed neatly into a side ponytail, and her peach, freckled face was set in concentration. Vivienne's face in concentration was something amusing though—her mother had once said that her face translated what her sunbconscious mood refused to express. Vivienne didn't know what it had meant then, she was nine.
Her uniform was pressed to perfection, and she stood straight. It was astonishing how she could feel so completely frazzled on the inside, but look as neat as a pin to anyone who glanced her direction. That is, if anyone even noticed her. She had all but magicked herself invisible—not many people paid attention to her. She didn't mind.
It wasn't as if Vivienne was antisocial, afraid of people or large groups, or carried a phobia of some sort that kept her from immediately entering the hall. It was only after living so many years in her quiet home—with all her actions and sounds amplified by all the silence—that Vivienne knew the assemblage and cacophony of a meal at her new school would prove to be a test of sensory overload. She leaned off the railing and sighed to herself. Her stomach yowled unpleasantly. Vivienne took a step down once—slowly. She stepped down again, as if dipping her foot into icy water.
Vivienne warmed up a bit, and heightened her pace. She descended the full staircase and peered around the doorway into the hall. She could see students scattered about, sitting in groups...but it wasn't too full—more people must've skipped breakfast than she had expected. She looked back once, and entered the Feasting hall.
Instantly, she gravitated towards a table that had students of her house, but with a few students thrown in that didn't seem to be of such. However, Vivienne considered that she didn't want to be towards an end—that indicated that she was alone, and planned to stay as such. She picked a spot on a solitary bench in the middle of the room, with other students at least a meter away on all sides.
Vivienne huffed as she sat down and stared at her plate. She heard all the voices congealing into a low roar around her, but it wasn't as bad she she had made it out to be. They were teenagers, not—necessarily—hyenas. They sounded like a muggle television set to background noise. Vivienne felt content. She could handle this. Her mouth watered as she began to fill her plate with eggs, toast, and hashbrowns. Eating without any more delay, Vivienne visibly relaxed and began to look around her. She watched students laugh and tell stories, explain vital points as if in debate, stare at their food while they muttered with mouths full, and gesture madly about how they "almost completely fell off my broom!"
It was almost comforting, Vivienne considered, to be surrounded by people. She wasn't quite there yet. But as she munched soundlessly on the crust of her toast, she decided to be present for more meals. After all, she could find someone to talk to in this fray.
Almost as if her thoughts had been read, someone came up behind her and spoke to the back of her head.