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Post by MONROE MAGNUSSON on Dec 20, 2011 0:29:32 GMT -5
"Lumos," a low voice hissed, light springing obediently from wand-tip to illuminate its owner's face. Awash with cold blue light, some might have called Monroe Magnusson's toothy grin eerie - but thankfully for him, he was all alone.
Entirely, totally, alone.
His triumphant smile grew yet broader, and he cupped his hand around his wand to keep the light from straying too far. Despite the early hour and the many rows of books that might shield him from any passing night patrols, he didn't want to risk being caught out of bed -- and in such a place as the restricted section of the library. Especially not when he had work to do.
Crouching and wishing belatedly he'd worn something more than his blue-striped cotton pajamas (it was a bit chilly that morning), the young wizard crept with predatory focus along the lines of texts. He was seeking one in particular, a history of obscure curses -- he'd heard the name of a particularly amusing bit of magic in passing, but had found nothing in his extensive research through the libraries other resources. And damn it, if there really was a curse to turn someone's thumbs backwards, he was going to learn it. (Nevermind that his mother was constantly disappointed with his growing repertoire of mostly useless spells.)
Truth be told, the challenge of slipping out of bed unnoticed and into the library was more than enough to ease Monroe's chronic boredom... but now that he was here, he decided, he might as well get what he was looking for.
He padded on bare feet around a corner and let out a strangled cry as he managed to catch his toe on a particularly large tome. Why someone had left the text, unattended, on the floor was beyond him, and he hissed in annoyance as pain rushed up his leg. Having finally caught his breath -- and checked very thoroughly to make sure no one was coming to accost him -- he ran his fingers shakily through his wild blonde hair and continued his search.
Finally finding what he hoped to be the right volume, he stopped and pulled an old, dusty book from its shelf to rifle through the musty pages.
ooc] mer, sorry, not my best post. |D still a bit rusty, i guess. |
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Post by BIANCA BEAUMONT on Dec 20, 2011 1:06:18 GMT -5
It was really quiet.
Bianca did not mind though - she enjoyed the peace. The chattering of her peers could only be tolerated for so long, especially when their conversations consisted of so many frivolous and trifle matters. For that very reason, Bianca took great care in departing from her dormitory while silently dressing herself (not that she at all anticipated actually running into anyone; but one could not be too sure, and how embarassing would it be for a lady to be seen undressed!). In the rich blackness of the sleeping castle she silently navigated her way to the third floor, each footstep softer than the last. She had to be graceful; it would not do her reputation good to be caught wandering the halls after dark.
Once she arrived, she pulled out her wand. In her left arm, a small book was carressed. Arriving at the doors to the library, she pointed her wand at the lock. "Alohomora," She whispered, her voice hardly audible. The latch immediately opened, and she made her way through the many stacks of books, soon coming to her destination: the restricted section.
For a few seconds, she considered lighting her wand with her lumos spell, but by this point her eyes had adjusted to the dark. Anyways, it was not like she was trying to find a book. She had already found one, a while ago - she just needed to return it. Bianca honestly figured she probably could have kept the book a tad longer, but she could not get over the paranoia of someone realizing it was missing and tracking her down. It was an unlikely scenario, but Bianca was not one to put herself in a risky situation. Ever.
As she walked along, she saw something flicker out of the corner of her eye. A light, perhaps? But, within a split second Bianca saw no more. Instantly, her adrenaline increased. This was in so way downplayed by the silence; if anything, if made Bianca all the more paranoid. Silence could mean many things. Usually, it meant someone else could be hiding. But Bianca then had to ask herself: who could ever be hiding in the restricted area past two in the morning? It was an ungodly time to be wandering the halls (as hypocritical as this was considering what Bianca was doing at that very moment) and Bianca could not help but worry that a professor may be linger behind the shelves.
She took a silent breath and immediately calmed herself. She was working herself up over a likely figment of her imagination, and that was the most logical explanation. Bianca at that moment just wanted to return her borrowed item and return to her dormitory; she could easily come back another night, when she was not so antsy. Thinking this, her eyes flickered to the book she was carrying. She had wanted to look for something else though-
A strangled cry suddenly shattered the silence.
Immediately, Bianca felt her heart stop, more from shock than fright. So, someone was there. Bianca froze, rivaling the stillness of a marble sculpture. She waited, not daring to make an sudden movement until she had an idea of if the mystery-person was coming in her direction or not. After a few seconds, the quietness resumed and Bianca felt her breath escape her lips. Clutching her book, she once more pulled out her wand. Once more, she began to take soft, ballerina-esque steps. This time, however, she moved in a different direction: the direction of the light she had seen.
She passed a few shelves before she once more saw a glimmer of light. Peeking around the corner, she barely made the figure out; it was a student, obviously, and a young man. Bianca could not tell much initially, as she could only see him from the side and the lighting was poor. She could see he was reading something, but what?
No longer threatened, Bianca put away her wand. She considered leaving, going on her way, not bothering with this student - but, she could not help but feel a hint of interest. Bianca thus quietly approached him, a cross between a small smile and impish smirk on her pretty little face. "Good morning," She spoke, her voice bell-like and constrasting with the silence.
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Post by MONROE MAGNUSSON on Dec 20, 2011 9:17:50 GMT -5
The momentary look of surprise that crossed his face -- so quick that you'd miss it unless you were looking -- was most certainly not because he'd just been caught. It wasn't even the informal, almost happy greeting that broke the silence. No, it was the youth of the voice; the fact that he'd been found by none other than another student.
He quickly schooled his expression into one of blank aloofness, not bothering to close the book propped open in his hands, and turned his head. One brow raised, he quickly appraised the female standing opposite him: she looked familiar, and he considered holding his wand up to her for a brief moment to get a better look. She was Slytherin, he thought, surely he'd seen her around the common room? Yes, that was it -- but he couldn't remember a name, and so, instead, he offered her a mirror of her devilish smirk. (It was more a baring of teeth than a smile; Monroe had always had problems with the expression, curling back his lips without transferring the happiness to his eyes.)
"Good morning," he finally acknowledged, with a polite nod of his head as though nothing was out of the norm. He made a show of returning his attention to the book, pretending to finish reading a few lines of text before snapping it closed and returning it to the shelf.
"So," he said, grin broadening as his amusement grew, "Find any good books?" He turned towards her and leaned casually against the tall shelf, fully realizing that nothing about his rumpled pajamas and bedhead lent to coming off as 'smooth'. He didn't care, of course; the entertained laughter on his lips only barely contained. (It wasn't often that he found others on his 'expeditions', and certainly not someone so... nice to look at.)
Without prompting, he thrust his hand forward to shake and introduced himself. "Magnusson, Monroe."
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Post by BIANCA BEAUMONT on Dec 20, 2011 10:45:41 GMT -5
Her eyes glistened with approval in the darkness, illuminated by the tip of the student's wand. He appeared polite enough, but of course Bianca always kept her guard in tact. The first few moments of someone's first encounter with another individual were always highly crucial, and therefpore prone to acts and facades. Of course Bianca only continued to keep her expression a pleasant one. Always remain pleasant, always remain likable - that was key to developing an exquisite amount of charisma of which Bianca had begun to do so years ago.
For a split second her gaze flickered over to the book the student was reading, although she was unable to make out the details. She thought she caught a few phrases relating to some "curses" - more playful, trickster magic probably. It was nothing she needed to concern herself with.
She watched as he appeared to finish whatever it was he was looking at and slid the book back into place. He then leaned against the bookshelf, a grin on his fair face. Such a smile reminded Bianca of a cross between the iconic muggle-designed character of the Cheshire Cat and a mischievious image of Pan. It was not unsettling, but at the same time it was not a grin that struck Bianca as trustworthy in the slightest. If anything, it was the grin of a prankster at the very least.
Bianca could not help but notice his attire: blue-striped pajamas. She brought her hand up to her soft lips, a quiet, delicate laugh escaping her airway. It was not terribly funny, but it was amusing to an extent and made Bianca all the more glad that she had gotten dressed. Her long-sleeved, black turtleneck and plaid skirt was certainly more appropriate than her evening slip would have been.
Her eyes moved back up to his face - oh yes, he was a Slytherin. Although, Bianca could not recall the last time she has spoke to him face to face aside from possibly a small nod of acknowledgement here and there. Now, where else had she seen him? Oh, that was right - Bianca remembered she had seen him earlier at the meeting in the hall with Professor Lestrange and all of the fifth and sixth years. She recalled this boy being one of the few who had actually spoken from the Slytherin table aside from herself, yet she could not place a name. He must have been a year her senior - it would be the only explanation as to why she had not conversed with him as much.
In response to her question, she shrugged. "I always find something," She spoke casually. She eyed his hand as he thrusted it toward her, no doubt to initiate a handshake. Bianca was sure to make eye contact as she too outstretched her arm that was free of the book she held, her feminine hand daintily grasping his. "Bianca Beaumont."
Pulling back, she clasped the book tightly to her chest, her fingers covering the title. Something about tracking geneology in purebloods and halfbloods and whatnot. A strange choice nonetheless. Bianca traced her finger along its spine. "I had come to return something, but your ruckus was rather...distracting," She commented, a playful glint in her honey-hued eyes. Looking around, she noticed that she still have no way of knowing what had caused the shout earlier. "I take it nothing too traumatic?"
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Post by MONROE MAGNUSSON on Dec 20, 2011 18:43:02 GMT -5
The cold blue light from his wand cast pitch-dark shadows dancing at odd angles, drawing unsettling shapes from the depths of his peripheral vision and painting the witch before him with oddly stark contrast. The dim atmosphere didn’t stop him from noticing the flicker of the girl’s eyes over his form, and his grin faded ever-so-slightly at her stifled giggle.
”I always find something.”
Her voice sounded exceptionally loud in the vast silence of the library, echoing off the shelves that almost seemed to bend in around them. Had he spoken so loudly? They were going to get caught, he thought to himself, smile falling yet further – despite the wonderful conversation unfolding between them. He shook her hand nonetheless, surprised by the dainty build of her fingers; the smooth lack of calluses and the way she held her wrist. He mentally racked up the evidence – Bianca, as she’d called herself, was very much interested in appearances. As was he – though he doubted there were many attending the school that didn’t care about the opinions of others. The trick – the glorious, delicious game behind the social field – was finding out how far this trait went. Was her niceness fake, as his often was? Did she also secretly plot the demise of others on her free time?
“Bianca,” he repeated with a nod, remembering her words with the Headmaster during the discussion of curriculum, “It is a pleasure.” There was no lie on his tongue for once – though he had no idea where this chance encounter would lead, it had set his mind alight with a spark of interest that normally only came from the acquisition of new knowledge.
He righted himself with a light push against the bookshelf and lowered his wand, running the fingers of his free hand through his mussed hair. ”Ah, no,” he replied to her inquiry, starting at the loudness of his own voice and immediately falling into a low whisper, ”Stubbed my toe against some book back there. I don’t think they’ll have to amputate, but…”
He paused and gave their surroundings a cursory glance before continuing: ”Perhaps we should carry on this lovely rapport of ours in a more… rule-abiding setting?”
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Post by BIANCA BEAUMONT on Dec 20, 2011 19:17:39 GMT -5
Was he one to follow rules? Most certainly Magnusson was at the very least one to bend - if not break - limitations. He seemed more catious, but then again, the reasoning for that may have alone been Bianca's prescence. It would make sense that he would experience the paranoia of being caught, as one can only control oneself. A second person would require a loss of control, placing the individual at risk. A strategic move.
"Perhaps," She said, looking back down at the book she had intended to return. Geneology...she would have to come back for the companion piece at some point. There was no rush, but lately she had become greatly interested in studying family lineages and heritages. For a brief second, her eyes seemed to fade, distant. The glimmering eyes of the clever princess were suddenly replaced by the eyes of a contemplative mermaid - strange and reflective. "I had not planned on staying for any extended period of time," She commented, her voice soft and almost absent-minded.
A small, almost inaudible sigh escaped her. She opened her book and flipped through the pages, giving a last minute skim; no, there was nothing else she needed to read. Mimicking Magusson's previous actions, she too placed her book back onto one of the shelves. "I probably should be returning to bed soon. That meeting today was rather...bothersome," She quietly stated, her mind flickering to the previous events of that day. That sorry excuse for a Ravenclaw and those two self-righteous Gryffindors were enough to give Bianca a headache for days on end.
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