Post by Aednat on Aug 16, 2006 10:51:28 GMT -5
((Just before the school year, after Fallen from Grace))
The tunnel was bustling with people, their chatter buzzing and ringing, many speaking louder just in order to be heard above others. The shoppers mostly consisted of students and a lot of accompanying adults or parents who were stocking up for the coming year. Some of the chatter was animated, clearly coming from those excited about the upcoming year, or those happy to bump into their friends who were similarly occupied. Easily recognisable was also the fact that there was a degree of stress in the area. Not everyone was stressed, of course, but there was more than one flustered mother begging her child to pay attention and read their booklist properly, or to stop moving so that they could be fitted for their robes.
It was into this slightly chaotic atmosphere that Aednat Leila Meagher arrived, looking none too composed herself, but beaming to beat the band. She literally arrived with a bang, as she fell out of a fireplace onto the slate floor of a pub, her satchel landing with a thump on the ground as it already contained some books. Straightening herself up, unconcerned by her fall by all appearances – and indeed she couldn’t have cared less – she wasted no time in scanning the interior of the pub for a familiar face as she pulled something long and red from her loose brown curls. It was part of a streamer, and it made her smile as she untangled it and popped it in an ashtray. She’d come directly from home, although she’d had to do it via more than one stop – Floo Powder wasn’t as easy to travel by when you had to navigate an ocean or two, for Aednat was from Ireland – and hadn’t really had time to fix herself up.
OWL results had arrived home that day, which was the reason she was plucking streamers from her hair and cheerily dusting crumbs from her clothes. Her family, as was their wont, had thrown an impromptu party upon receiving the owl with her grades. (As some might have noticed, Aednat had inherited the spontaneous-party-planner gene). And now she was back in Spain, if only for a day or so, to do some shopping and see everyone. In fact, seeing her friends here was her main objective, though she didn’t know if anyone would be at the school. It was open for students at summer, which was why it wasn’t a big deal to arrive for the weekend to do some school shopping. She’d have a place to stay, and could return to her home in Ireland for a few days just before term started if she chose. If she chose not to, her case would be sent along separately with all the things she had purchased before her return to Spain, and with the rest of her clothes.
She would have completed her shopping back at home, but there were a few things that she’d probably only get near the school, so it was the perfect excuse. Feeling around in her bag to make sure she hadn’t lost her purse – which, thankfully, she hadn’t – she set off, waving cheerily at the bartend as she left with promises to return for a Butterbeer in a while. Her hair, lightened slightly by the sun as happened every summer, hung loose in its usual curls down her back. Her step was as light as ever, containing its usual spring, her eyes twinkled as they always had, her smile was still bright and her voice still rose in song as she wandered down the tunnel, head turning left and right as she examined the shop windows and the goods displayed. All in all, she seemed much the same girl as had arrived to Firefox as a new student; she was just a bit older and there was (luckily) a marked improvement in her Spanish. She could now carry off any conversation she needed – as far as buying supplies went anyway – with little difficulty, though her level of fluency was not such that she could converse about much else. Having arrived first, she had barely been able to introduce herself.
Those were the only changes that showed, but if one knew her well enough, they might notice that she wasn’t quite the same. Of course, what more could have been expected? No one would be totally the same after that war; it would take time to come to terms with the horrors they had seen, even if they would never be forgotten. She hadn’t lost any of the natural happiness that had always been hers, but in truth she wasn’t anxious to see her friends only because of their results, but because she wanted to know how they were. Her closest friends had been lucky, like her, and most had suffered only minor physical injuries. She was sure they’d have healed by now, just like hers had. Physically, Aednat bore no mark that told the tale of the war she had partaken in, save two tiny scars. One was no bigger than a fingernail, on the inside of her right wrist. The other was longer, about three or four inches in total, and was on her shoulder; though it was still a pinkish colour, it was healing and Aednat even doubted that it would last. She had every faith that her friends would be the same. But would they be alright emotionally?
Would Roan, so angry, be able to let go of the horrific things she had seen? Would Rezna, so gentle, be able to come to terms with everything? What about Sylph? Though Aednat was probably closest to Sylph, she was worried about her less than most. Sylph was like herself – resilient. But could she bounce back as she always had? There were so many others she thought of, wondering each time how and where they were. Megan came to the fore of her mind a lot. Only a first year, would the memories haunt her? Aednat felt particularly responsible for her, and especially protective.
Eagerly, she searched the crowd again. There was no one. Had it not been for her seemingly-eternal optimism, she might have been disappointed, but not one shred of that showed in her expressive eyes, for she didn’t feel it. She would bump into someone, she was sure. And if not, well, she would return home or head to the castle and see if she could find anyone there. Either way, it would be good. The castle would be a sure bet for company, and back at home the party was doubtless still in full swing. Mirth danced in her eyes at that thought, and her singing was interrupted by a laugh that bubbled up.
“Iced Butterbeers! Iced Butterbeers! Cheaper here than anywhere else!”
One voice, young, in Spanish, won the competition and was heard above the rest, though the strain in the yelling made it clear it was a struggle. The petite girl turned to see the source, and found herself facing a boy, only about thirteen, selling iced Butterbeers by the bottle. Though she didn’t have much spare change – Aednat was comfortable, but not particularly well off, and had only taken a bit of money from the other purse in her suitcase – she immediately headed over to buy one. For one thing, she really felt she ought to buy one from the boy if she could, and for another, she was curious as a kitten by nature. She had never heard of iced Butterbeers before, never mind tasted them. It would be interesting, at least. Smiling, she handed over a few coins and accepted a couple of napkins to wrap around the cold bottle. After a moment or two of conversation, she left with a wave. The shop nearest was selling owls, and she fully intended to go in. She was getting an owl this year, whether at home or here she didn’t know, but she had saved up and could now afford one. She wouldn’t buy one today – she had a sneaking suspicion that Sylph might set up a shop and work with animals, and if so Aednat would obviously prefer to give her friend the business – but she would most certainly look. (Lord, she was going to miss Sylph this year).
Leaning against the wall – she couldn’t take food or drink into the shop – she uncorked her bottle (using a little magic, and hoping she’d get away with it!) and took a sip, listening, entertained, to a toddler telling his mother very convincingly just why she should buy him a Firebolt of his own.
The tunnel was bustling with people, their chatter buzzing and ringing, many speaking louder just in order to be heard above others. The shoppers mostly consisted of students and a lot of accompanying adults or parents who were stocking up for the coming year. Some of the chatter was animated, clearly coming from those excited about the upcoming year, or those happy to bump into their friends who were similarly occupied. Easily recognisable was also the fact that there was a degree of stress in the area. Not everyone was stressed, of course, but there was more than one flustered mother begging her child to pay attention and read their booklist properly, or to stop moving so that they could be fitted for their robes.
It was into this slightly chaotic atmosphere that Aednat Leila Meagher arrived, looking none too composed herself, but beaming to beat the band. She literally arrived with a bang, as she fell out of a fireplace onto the slate floor of a pub, her satchel landing with a thump on the ground as it already contained some books. Straightening herself up, unconcerned by her fall by all appearances – and indeed she couldn’t have cared less – she wasted no time in scanning the interior of the pub for a familiar face as she pulled something long and red from her loose brown curls. It was part of a streamer, and it made her smile as she untangled it and popped it in an ashtray. She’d come directly from home, although she’d had to do it via more than one stop – Floo Powder wasn’t as easy to travel by when you had to navigate an ocean or two, for Aednat was from Ireland – and hadn’t really had time to fix herself up.
OWL results had arrived home that day, which was the reason she was plucking streamers from her hair and cheerily dusting crumbs from her clothes. Her family, as was their wont, had thrown an impromptu party upon receiving the owl with her grades. (As some might have noticed, Aednat had inherited the spontaneous-party-planner gene). And now she was back in Spain, if only for a day or so, to do some shopping and see everyone. In fact, seeing her friends here was her main objective, though she didn’t know if anyone would be at the school. It was open for students at summer, which was why it wasn’t a big deal to arrive for the weekend to do some school shopping. She’d have a place to stay, and could return to her home in Ireland for a few days just before term started if she chose. If she chose not to, her case would be sent along separately with all the things she had purchased before her return to Spain, and with the rest of her clothes.
She would have completed her shopping back at home, but there were a few things that she’d probably only get near the school, so it was the perfect excuse. Feeling around in her bag to make sure she hadn’t lost her purse – which, thankfully, she hadn’t – she set off, waving cheerily at the bartend as she left with promises to return for a Butterbeer in a while. Her hair, lightened slightly by the sun as happened every summer, hung loose in its usual curls down her back. Her step was as light as ever, containing its usual spring, her eyes twinkled as they always had, her smile was still bright and her voice still rose in song as she wandered down the tunnel, head turning left and right as she examined the shop windows and the goods displayed. All in all, she seemed much the same girl as had arrived to Firefox as a new student; she was just a bit older and there was (luckily) a marked improvement in her Spanish. She could now carry off any conversation she needed – as far as buying supplies went anyway – with little difficulty, though her level of fluency was not such that she could converse about much else. Having arrived first, she had barely been able to introduce herself.
Those were the only changes that showed, but if one knew her well enough, they might notice that she wasn’t quite the same. Of course, what more could have been expected? No one would be totally the same after that war; it would take time to come to terms with the horrors they had seen, even if they would never be forgotten. She hadn’t lost any of the natural happiness that had always been hers, but in truth she wasn’t anxious to see her friends only because of their results, but because she wanted to know how they were. Her closest friends had been lucky, like her, and most had suffered only minor physical injuries. She was sure they’d have healed by now, just like hers had. Physically, Aednat bore no mark that told the tale of the war she had partaken in, save two tiny scars. One was no bigger than a fingernail, on the inside of her right wrist. The other was longer, about three or four inches in total, and was on her shoulder; though it was still a pinkish colour, it was healing and Aednat even doubted that it would last. She had every faith that her friends would be the same. But would they be alright emotionally?
Would Roan, so angry, be able to let go of the horrific things she had seen? Would Rezna, so gentle, be able to come to terms with everything? What about Sylph? Though Aednat was probably closest to Sylph, she was worried about her less than most. Sylph was like herself – resilient. But could she bounce back as she always had? There were so many others she thought of, wondering each time how and where they were. Megan came to the fore of her mind a lot. Only a first year, would the memories haunt her? Aednat felt particularly responsible for her, and especially protective.
Eagerly, she searched the crowd again. There was no one. Had it not been for her seemingly-eternal optimism, she might have been disappointed, but not one shred of that showed in her expressive eyes, for she didn’t feel it. She would bump into someone, she was sure. And if not, well, she would return home or head to the castle and see if she could find anyone there. Either way, it would be good. The castle would be a sure bet for company, and back at home the party was doubtless still in full swing. Mirth danced in her eyes at that thought, and her singing was interrupted by a laugh that bubbled up.
“Iced Butterbeers! Iced Butterbeers! Cheaper here than anywhere else!”
One voice, young, in Spanish, won the competition and was heard above the rest, though the strain in the yelling made it clear it was a struggle. The petite girl turned to see the source, and found herself facing a boy, only about thirteen, selling iced Butterbeers by the bottle. Though she didn’t have much spare change – Aednat was comfortable, but not particularly well off, and had only taken a bit of money from the other purse in her suitcase – she immediately headed over to buy one. For one thing, she really felt she ought to buy one from the boy if she could, and for another, she was curious as a kitten by nature. She had never heard of iced Butterbeers before, never mind tasted them. It would be interesting, at least. Smiling, she handed over a few coins and accepted a couple of napkins to wrap around the cold bottle. After a moment or two of conversation, she left with a wave. The shop nearest was selling owls, and she fully intended to go in. She was getting an owl this year, whether at home or here she didn’t know, but she had saved up and could now afford one. She wouldn’t buy one today – she had a sneaking suspicion that Sylph might set up a shop and work with animals, and if so Aednat would obviously prefer to give her friend the business – but she would most certainly look. (Lord, she was going to miss Sylph this year).
Leaning against the wall – she couldn’t take food or drink into the shop – she uncorked her bottle (using a little magic, and hoping she’d get away with it!) and took a sip, listening, entertained, to a toddler telling his mother very convincingly just why she should buy him a Firebolt of his own.