InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "You so care about me."

IT'S CANON. (barbary) wrote in possibilities,
@ 2008-05-03 23:00:00

WHO: ~~Heathcote~~ ~~Heath~~ Creepy Barbary and everyone on the invite list. ...and people who probably weren't even invited at all...
WHEN: October twenty-second, clearly.
WHERE: An empty Transfiguration classroom on the sixth floor.
SUMMARY: The party of the year, obv. (This is me not having a proper summary, you see.)
RATING: R, to be safe.
WARNINGS: Major rule-breaking, people, you. Don't. Even. Know. (Including, but not limited to: underage drinking, having a party in general, probably a bunch of other shit that I don't care to mention~)
STATUS: Incomplete!

To say that Creepy was nervous would be the understatement of the year; he was beyond that. He was scared shitless and he was still working on getting his guitar fixed, that he didn't even know how it got broken, and fuck. Just. Fuck. Really, the only thought going through Creepy's mind was 'fuck,' and other variations of that word, which was never a good sign. Creepy simply needed to breathe and not freak out anymore -- no one was here to see him and make sure that he wasn't breaking his guitar worse; there were no watching eyes to say he was a shitty guitar player. So why freak out? There, he was calming down, slightly.

Mumbling the spell given to him to repair his guitar once more, finally, it worked, and he could've let out a squeal of excitement at this little gift from Merlin, or whoever. Creepy was never the best and conjuring up spells and making them work the first time around, and for once, he wasn't going to throw it at the nearest wall to see it break, only to break it again. Creepy's specialty was breaking things and then trying to fix them, though he had no idea what that said about him as a person, really. Maybe he was a destructive person by nature. Whatever the case was, Creepy had his fucking guitar fixed, and he wouldn't need to borrow Donut's guitar or anyone else's. Now, the only thing he had to worry about, was not passing out before they went on, since that was their first real show and all.

After a few deep breaths and mumbles to himself, Creepy slipped his wand into one of his robes (which he wasn't sure why he had on anymore, really, but he had his Playing Clothes on under it) and left the sixth year Hufflepuff boys' dormitories and set out for the appropriate room that he was told to go to by Esme, who was supposed to be there by the time he arrived. Needless to say, Creepy was alone, like he had been in the dorms, so he let out a slow exhale and set his guitar off to the side, near the stage they'd soon be playing on. It wasn't all that big, but the decorations were done up quite nicely, so Creepy had to give props to Esme for setting all of this shit up; if he'd been asked to, whoever wanted him to set everything up and follow through with the plans would be fucked, and not in a good way.

Really, all Creepy had to do now was wait, for whoever it was to show up first. Myron? Crumbs? Donut? Duke? Esme? Julia? Who else was there… oh! Amelia? Fuck, he'd forgotten Amelia was coming briefly, but Creepy composed himself quickly and shook his head, making his hair move around a bit, then ran both hands through it. Nothing to worry about, he kept repeating to himself under his breath, and he continued to do so until he believed it, if only a little. The worst that could happen was someone showing up who Creepy didn't want to see, and what were the chances of that occurring? This was an invitation-only-thing, wasn't it? Creepy was almost positive that it was, which was why he got that Out of Sight, Out of Mind saying stuck in his head.

Going to sit down on the edge of the stage, Creepy grabbed his guitar and started to strum the appropriate first notes to the songs the band had set up to play, or the ones he thought they'd be doing, humming under his breath again, to make it sound like they were actually playing and not alone. So far so good; Creepy wasn't wanting to throw his guitar at the wall or nearest speaker. Rocking along to himself, Creepy stopped strumming and glanced over quickly when he heard a noise, freezing up immediately with eyes wide and lip now between his teeth, like that would stop him from making a noise if that were to happen at all. For a second, it felt like everything was still and all Creepy could do was hear the footsteps, then, luckily, he saw that it was simply Crumbs and not someone who was unwanted (by him) here.

"Oh, hey," Creepy sighed out, sounding more than a little relieved and offered Crumbs a smile. If anything, he was happy that Crumbs was the first to arrive, because Creepy knew that he could relate to his freaking out; Donut was far too happy and exited to even think of passing out (or worse), Myron and Duke were too mellow (and why hadn't he smoked something before he left the dorms? Merlindamnit), and everyone else… was, well, everyone else, of course. "No one else is here right now, but. Fuck, look at this shit! It's really done up, you know?" he asked rhetorically, strumming once more on his guitar before he set it off to the side, then glanced from it to Crumbs, and repeated that step a few times before adding, "I fixed my guitar, too, by the way," with a crooked smile and a quirk of an eyebrow.

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crumb
2008-05-04 08:38 am UTC (link)

Transfiguration. Really, that was his only class on Fridays. Study Hall couldn’t really count as a class and there was really no excuse to miss your only class of the day, but…it happened. It’d been less than a normal day, and after lunch instead of going straight back to the Great Hall to sit around and attempt to do homework Crumbs found himself walking over to Moaning Myrtles bathroom to see Duke, of all places. After his family gushing about how proud they were of him, and to do well in school among other things, every single step had made his stomach feel worse and worse. Transfiguration was missed. But that was hours ago, and if someone were to survive the whole day without panicking about panicking, Crumbs was sure that he could do it.

As he made his way to the empty classroom he felt as though he was underwater, although the last time he had actually been underwater had been a while back, but he felt like that. He knew that there wasn’t any way of getting out of this at all, and that he’d have to play in front of people that he didn’t know. It was so much easier when it was just the band but he wasn’t sure who else was coming and just the fact that he was supposed to be part of the entertainment made Crumbs feel dizzy. It’d been quite a while since his last major episode of nervousness but he still couldn’t get over the fact that yes, he’d be playing. In front of people. He sighed once as he held on to the straps of his new backpack; Crumbs had made his bagpipes as well as Donut’s bass small enough to fit in the puppy shaped bag, although the bag would carry large items as well.

With every step he took, it left his fingertips tingling. A step. A breath. He needed to talk to someone. Crumbs was hoping that someone he knew was there already, preferably Donut but now certainly wasn’t the time to be picky. When he had arrived to the room he’d been standing outside the actual door for much too long. It was gathering attention from those walking past so he decided to take the plunge and just open the door. A step. A breath. A deeper breath. Creepy was already there. There was a smile on his face as he saw his friend and thanked whoever was looking over him and had given him the luck of having someone there.

The room looked nice enough. He gave Creepy a smile and simply nodded, because he was sure if he had actually opened his mouth whatever he would attempt to say would come out wrong. When Crumbs had actually heard the news that his guitar was fixed, it was almost like he’d forgotten about being nervous and had a full out smile form on his face. “You have no idea how proud I am of you,” he started to take his backpack off and then sat down next to where Creepy was, “really really proud, mate.”

Crumbs looked over at Creepy once he heard the door open again and couldn’t help but grimace a little. He didn’t even want to look at whoever was there because just the thought that other people were going to be here made him feel awkward. He kept on telling himself that deeper breaths would be the solution. He looked down at his feet before nodding once and quietly asking, “When’s the alcohol going to get here? And do you know what song we’ll be playing first?”

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barbary
2008-05-06 04:54 pm UTC (link)

Looking up to Crumbs, Creepy grinned widely and shrugged, then pushed his hair out of his face that fell into his eyes again. "Dude, it took like, what, three tries? But it eventually worked! And here she is, in all of her glory!" Creepy announced, his voice kind of echoing off the walls of the room, causing him to do that manic little giggle he often did. And yes, Creepy did often refer to his guitar(s) as hers, because it seemed appropriate; now that he thought about it, he needed to name them, too. All something different so that they wouldn't feel let out (sweet Merlin, Creepy was now starting to sound like Amelia, even in his head!). "Fuck, I'm nervous," Creepy murmured to himself after showing off his guitar, a scowl settling at his lips, almost looking like a pout.

Whatever. After a few deep breaths, Creepy mumbled something to Crumbs about going to check out everything in the room, leaving his friend's side right after he'd sat down next to him, his fingertips running through streamer-type-things as he left his friend's side and checked everything out. Well, this certainly was done up, since Creepy couldn't take the time to admire it like he wished he could've, for the simple fact that he needed to make sure his guitar was tuned properly and worked like it should've. Really, Creepy was surprised that the guitar worked at all, because it'd taken a pretty hard toss at the wall, for whatever reason. Honestly, Creepy wasn't even sure what he did, or why he did it, but all he knew was that his guitar was broken by the end of it all. Luckily, Mafalda was nice enough to give him the spell, though, because it would pretty much really fucking suck had she decided not to.

Creepy took a few deep breaths again once he had looked everything over, then showed up right back next to Crumbs, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "This is fucking awesome, dude. Seriously. Remind me to thank Esme for putting all this shit together, when she could probably get in deep trouble, Merlin forbid anyone ever finds out. And by anybody, I mean people who shouldn't know about this," Creepy rambled on, motioning around with his hands wildly, eyes opening almost comically wide as he spoke, as they did a lot of the time. Apparently, Creepy had come back just in time to be bombarded with some questions, so he sat back down where he had been, next to Crumbs to listen to him, his head turned and wide eyes focused on the other.

For a second, Creepy had to think really hard about the questions Crumbs was throwing at him, his eyebrows furrowing a bit, then pulled his lower lip into his mouth momentarily. "I'm not sure about the alcohol… who's even supposed to be bringing it? Should we know these things?" he asked, not even realising he was answering Crumbs' questions with… well, questions. Okay, really, Creepy was starting to sound like Amelia. Sigh. "Not sure about the song, either, because I'm never told any of this shit. I think we need to be more put together as a band, don't you?" he asked rhetorically, shrugging his shoulders up high, not even bothering to stop talking when he heard a door open and close, but then he heard who it more than likely was and held his breath. Well then.

Carefully leaning over to Crumbs, Creepy pressed his lips almost flush to his friend's ear, breathing out, "I think that's Amelia," quickly and looked over, not being able to see who it was, but the person had said wow, so that was indication enough for him. "What do I do?" he finished with in a hurried voice, like she was going to show up out of nowhere right in front of them, and he had no idea why he thought Crumbs would know the answers to his questions, but whatever, really, because people always asked Creepy questions he didn't know answers to, and they generally knew he didn't.

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gibbon
2008-05-05 10:57 pm UTC (link)

Amelia had no idea what was going on. She still hadn't figured out just what sort of event she was going to be attending with the others who had also received invitations. She did know, at least, that Creepy and his band were going to be playing. Was there going to be dancing? Or did you just stand there and watch these sort of things? What sort of music was it? Were they any good? So many questions and so few answers! She had never seen Creepy or the others play, and even now that she and Creepy were in some sort of...strange friendly place together, she didn't know what it was that made her so excited for something that she would normally not be in a very big hurry to attend.

When groups of people were involved, the familiar sorts where she couldn't simply just blend in, it turned her off completely; usually she would stay away from the people who would try to poke and prod at her with different questions. It was a defense mechanism, and just part of her personality. She was used to caring about other people without them really knowing it, or retaliating by playing the question game. She certainly wasn't used to people actually caring about her and what she did on a daily basis at Hogwarts. There were some people that she couldn't turn her curiosity away from, however, and in a way, just being invited to this party was more fascinating to her than the actual party may have been. The invitation had been kept under her pillow away from those others in her dormitory who may have prowled around looking for gossip; it was also a good place to keep in in case she wanted to whip it out again and stare at it. The size, the shape, the writing. It was all fascinating!

Amelia was wandering around the castle again. It wasn't as though she couldn't find just where she was supposed to be, but she was making sure that there was nothing else interesting going on before she completely subjected herself to being in one place for the rest of the night. Or however long this lasted. Would they all have a sleepover? Should she have brought a pillow and a blanket? She glanced at the tiny bag that was slung over her shoulder, the bag that held her invitation, and wondered if she should attempt to shove a blanket in there, just in case. Wow! It could possibly fit if she tried. But her attention moved away from her bag so she could focus on walking. She never wore shoes like this, and they were...firm! And high! And dangerous! Her outward appearance looked different than it normally did, simply because she had spent an hour being fascinated by the different colours she could potentially put on her face.

The inside was the same, of course, with the exception of the small fluttering of nerves in her navel. Amelia was still humming a Christmas song as she neared the right door, though she actually wandered right by it at first, and ended up laughing at her silliness before nearly skipping, dangerously with those shoes, back over to the door so she could dart inside quickly. It was a room! Transformed! But still a room! Wow! Parties took place in normal rooms like this?

Unable to stop herself, Amelia yelled "Wow!" the moment she stepped into the room. She paid no attention to who else may have been in there and instead twirled around, taking in her surroundings.

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jpott
2008-05-05 11:15 pm UTC (link)

Stop thinking about her. Really, stop thinking about her. You have to stop thinking about her. You think about her too much, you prat. So? It was something worth thinking about! Why shouldn't he think about her? Why should he worry about what she was going to say when, or if, she found out about this? It almost seemed like whatever progress he had been making would completely vanish, and she would go back to thinking things about him in a way that resembled when they were younger, when they first met, when he teased Snape, when he was nothing but a right foul git and she had wanted to hex his bollocks off. They had gotten past the bollocks hexing thing, hadn't they? Of course they had. They could be both Head Boy and Head Girl, and still maintain a slightly strange friendship, right? Yes. No!

James was arguing with himself for what felt like the hundredth time that week. He was like a broken record, the sort that pierced into your brain relentlessly and refused to stop. He hated his brain. Why did his brain have to be such a traitor? Honestly, the silly thing couldn't think normal thoughts like any other bloke, it had to play the same game again! Part of it he attributed to the fact that he was Head Boy, and that, in a way, he didn't want to tarnish whatever new reputation he had started to build this year. He wanted people to think he deserved to be Head Boy. He did deserve to be Head Boy. He could be smart, he could be responsible, he could punish people when they deserved to be punished! Or he could leave that part to Lily...or something.

But it didn't matter. James pushed himself off the wall and glanced around the corridor, searching to see if Sirius and Remus had wandered by yet. The rebellious side was much too anxious for the first party of the year, so much so that he forced himself to think about things that didn't involve girls with green eyes or shiny badges on his robes. There was nothing wrong with fun. He'd had plenty of it during his years at Hogwarts! Dungbombs in the toilets, strolls around the castle grounds with giggling girls, unparalleled mischief with Sirius, Remus, and sometimes Peter.

The map was tucked away in his pocket, and James had made sure it was the first thing he grabbed. Genius, it was. No one knew that he and his mates had the best fool-proof bit of security that anyone at a party could ever ask for. It was almost a guarantee that they wouldn't get caught, as long as no one saw them glancing at the fancy parchment. Perhaps they could even be heroes if they did their job as security officers well! Or they could fail miserably if he forgot about the map entirely and someone managed to creep their way into the party room.

For as anxious as he was, James stayed put. He didn't head to the classroom right away, for he knew that Sirius and Remus would be meeting him here at any moment. Whenever that was, if the little buggers would ever show up.

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lupinelupin
2008-05-06 12:53 am UTC (link)

Remus defiantly looked back at the sullen, pale creature looking back at him in his reflection the Gryffondor Boy's Bathroom mirror. What was happening to him? He asked himself, taking his lower lip between his teeth and worrying it fiercely. It was barely a few days until the inevitable monthly visit from his demons. Lately, he has looked forward to his transformations but after the events of that morning, Remus would only wish to lock himself away in isolation until the party and the transformation was long over. Inside a closet maybe, or under his bed. Those seemed safe places...

He turned away from the mirror with a sigh and leaned back against the sink, an uncharacteristic deep frown on his features. Just that morning, he had an encouter of the strangest kind. He was on his way to lunch from his last morning class, minding his own business and even feeling quite pleasant, when he had spotted a first year leaning against the stairs by the doors, eating ice cream it seemed with much satisfaction. All would have been well, if only Remus didn't have the sudden urge to smudge the ice cream on the boy's face. He could very distinctly remember the struggle he felt inside his chest; he couldn't understand why it had been difficult for him to stay away from the temptation. He WANTED to do it, to give into his sadistic intentions. It was as if two figures were battling inside his head. The Worse Part? The louder voice won over. He shoved the sorbet right into the unsuspecting kid's face, pointed, then snickered. After which he stopped in panic, profusely apologized, scourgified the poor thing maybe four times that it seemed as if his complexion was actually lighter, before fleeing from the scene. Oh Merlin, was he going insane?

Remus was not completely unfamiliar with the feeling of his inner evil bubbling inside him. Once in a while, they rose into the surface but never has he experienced having it this strong, this persistent. He raked his hand though his hair, then messed it up again, wanting to cry, then laugh maniacally. Then the thought of drinking liquor entered his mind and suddenly he wanted it. Lots of it. A mad cackle threatened to escape him then, but he scolded himself right away. If someone saw him at that moment, they'd think he was insane. And maybe he was, but he really didn't want to think so...

Quickly dressing up in his casual robes, Remus pulled a heavy cloak from his closet, shrugged it on before taking his wand and exiting his quarters. He walked through the too quiet halls with much caution, making his way towards the spot James had told him and Sirius to meet him, quietly trying to figure out how insane he was, exactly and if he should tell his friends straight away. After turning a corner, he saw James, the sight of the other offering him a momentary sense of calm as it always did. But that was before he recalled a certian instance that morning where he had quite cheekily called Lily 'babycakes' before he once again apologized profusely and ran away. His legs took him to James and he stopped just beside the other, looking around nervously. what to do... what to do... "James. Buddy. Pal. How do you do?" he said rather too awkwardly. Oh, why was he not gifted with enough grace to pull off hiding the biggest dirtiest lies without anyone truly noticing? "Been here long?"

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jpott
2008-05-06 02:18 am UTC (link)

James had taken to fiddling with his black hair. The front part of his hair was being heavenly and flattening itself downward so it looked tame. The back section, however, was an utter nightmare. The hair seemed to have a brain of it's own, and all it seemed to want to do was spike itself and stand straight up. He'd run his hand down it a thousand times when he was still in the bathroom, and he'd even found momentary satisfaction after wetting his hair and watching gleefully as it laid flat on his head. That didn't last long, however, for even before it had completely dried it was back to sticking up again. The "just got off my broom" look was what he used to call it, but now he referred to his hair by other colourful phrases and terms. Perhaps he just cared too much about it, and perhaps if he forgot that he even had hair he would forget that said hair was a mess. Yes, this could possibly solve all his problems. Possibly. It didn't seem like to happen very soon, though, as he was frantically smacking it down when he saw Remus hurrying toward him.

Both of his hands immediately left his head and he grinned, watching the other boy with amused eyes. Moony was the member of their trio who was even more paranoid about such things as James was, but it was entirely endearing to have a friend who worried about you and your well-being and didn't tattle on you when you were trying to find ways to see how long the first years could keep eating chocolate frogs before they got a sweet headache. He knew that their bond would definitely tie them together for life, as he knew that he always wanted to be there to help his friend out during that time of the month. It had become fun, in a way, an adventure that all blokes craved.

"Hi," he responded, his voice tinged with a bit of amusement at Moony's formal greeting. "How do I do? Moony, I feel slightly offended here. Makes me feel a bit like someone in charge, really," he continued, reaching out to give Moony a poke on the arm. "But no, I haven't been here long." Pause. "Bit nervous, are you?"

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lupinelupin
2008-05-11 12:22 am UTC (link)

Even though Remus had barely spared James a glance while he was making his way towards the other, the moment he saw the guilty smile on his face and the way the hairs in his head were slowly lifting back to their natural dissarray, he immediately knew what the other was trying to do. "QYou're messing with your hair again." he stated, a sigh escaping his lips. "I told you it looks fine just the way it is." Remus continued, frowning, his squinting eyes focused on the top of the other's head. Raising one hand, he ruffled it for a bit, with an mask of concentration that mirrored an artist sculping marble on his features, before pulling back. "It looks beter this way. I though you liked the just-got-off-my-broom look? You're fighting the forces of nature here and I'm afraid you're going to lose. You rhair has always won and mocked you every single time." A snicker.

It occured to him suddenly how significantly better he felt now that he was with James. He felt... less evil and who can say that's a bad thing? James was always the person he ran to when he needed someone to talk to, someone who will listen but not judge, someone who wasn't afraid to express how much their friendship means to him. He definitey couldn't imagine life without him, or Padfoot or Wormtail. That was the reason why he felt twice as horrible now that he was forced to keep things from him. "Oh, and I'm sorry. Can I try again? Hey Prongs."

"Nervous? No. What made you say that- Where's Padofoot?" Remus asked suddenly, whishing to divert the other's attention. Stading against the wall beside James, he took his cold hands deep in his pockets, his eyes casted to the floor. "And do you have the map? It would certainly prove most useful in events such as these. It always helped us..." A small smile.

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Antonin and Mary~!

antibrit
2008-05-08 07:26 pm UTC (link)

By the time Antonin had gotten to the party it had been going on for some time and he could hardly get through the crowd. The music was loud, people were packed together moving in the exact same formations at the same time, though they were all mysteriously off beat, and some were jumping up and down, and a good percentage were simply screaming their heads off in favor of the band. It was clear Antonin did not belong here. This was not a Sociopath Convention, it was a social butterfly's dream. A giant party with what everybody thought would be the biggest band on earth in a matter of years. However he didn't believe that, they were a bunch of gay boys in ultra-tight pants to him. What the hell was he doing at this party anyway?

Just as a drunken girl was being thrown on him, he made up every excuse he could to get away from her, easing out from under the haze of alcohol and sweat that was teeming from her. He inched away about as cooly as he could, pushing people aside, and nudging people out of his way. It was clear he himself wasn't going to be comfortable unless he had hard liquor, and fast. On his way to the drink table, normally enough he went too fast to try and get to it, knocking a girl right off her feet in his alcoholic dash. He stopped to help her up--as that is what normal people with consciences do--and brought her to her feet. He nodded in apology and looked closer at her, trying to remember who she was.

"...Mary?"

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Antonin and Mary~!

mcdnld
2008-05-08 07:45 pm UTC (link)

In all honesty, Mary had no idea how she got here in the first place; it may have had something to do with Esme, or simply watching where everyone else went, and curiosity generally got the best of her and she had no choice but to follow instinct and see what was going on. As usual, it was nothing that Mary would normally be into, but why not stick around to see what went on? So many people were already here and they appeared to be having a good time, which meant Mary would surely find fun in all of this… mess. Yes, mess seemed to be the appropriate word to use, to her.

If anything, it was worse than a mess and more so a… party gone wrong. Bodies were all moving together and there were people walking by and talking loudly, some singing along to the song that was playing, which no one probably even really knew, but was making up their own words to, and there was jumping and out-of-beat dancing. Also dancing that shouldn't have even been done to this type of music, Mary was fairly certain, but that was what made this all seem so interesting and urged her to stay and see what would occur: all of the different people and everyone who appeared to not want to leave their group of people they knew already. It was almost as though everything was pre-determined and this party wasn't a spur-of-the-moment type of thing, because so many people kept to themselves in their groups that they danced in and conversed with, and Mary? Well, Mary would just be there and watching, if nothing else.

Mary was walking to go see what types of drinks they were serving at this shindig when someone bumped -- rather hard, actually -- into her and knocked her down off her feet, her eyes opening wide. Really, Mary never was the partying type, which was why she was careful with where she went so she didn't run into the wrong person for them to make judgments about her on, even if she didn't particularly care what they thought about her anyway. But there was a small part of her that didn't want people to assume she was like Irisa LeFeuvre, who partied all the time with her friends, when Mary was far from that. But once she looked up, Mary came to see that it was Antonin, and already, she could feel a barely-there blush forming over her cheeks.

"Antonin?" Mary responded, though it came out as a question, as did his recalling of her name, but she offered him a smile nonetheless. A small one, but it was there, to show that she wasn't going to run away or anything. Looking over to Antonin's hand briefly that was on her shoulder, Mary shrugged the other one up and nodded her head, to show that she was alright. "I'm fine," she said, even if he hadn't asked anything, but she assumed he would've eventually. She'd felt worse when she fell off her broom first year, because she did that a lot, as did most people who were just learning how to fly, more than likely.

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Antonin and Mary~!

antibrit
2008-05-13 11:26 pm UTC (link)

Antonin felt a sudden wave of discomfort when he looked into the blue of Mary McDonald's eyes. It wasn't so much that she made him feel uncomfortable, it was much more than she was the bravest girl he'd yet seen at Hogwarts and her rash actions--well. Actually, sadly enough they made him uncomfortable. And now here she was, at a party in which she greatly stuck out at, and he greatly stuck out. He then felt a great deal of silent inept bonding. But she was innocent, the reason she stuck out, and he was...not. At all. All the rabbits in a one mile radius of Kiev all know Antonin is not such a good boy. But Antonin would simply say nobody was going to miss those rabbits...Didn't Mary look just like an albino white rabbit? But with blue eyes instead of red. She had such a beautiful quality, to him. He shook the thought quickly.

"Mary, what are you doing here?" he asked, his hand still on her shoulder. He took a moment to look at it before removing it. "I never thought you would be here," he said, almost shouting over the music. It almost didn't sound human, as he yelled because of how thick his accent was. To many people, him speaking his language--especially this loud would sound like he was cursing her out, which almost always drew attention by British people. Disgusting horrible British people. "How are you," he asked, trying his best to make conversation that was probably going to be awkward no matter what turn he attempted to make.

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Antonin and Mary~!

mcdnld
2008-05-14 01:57 am UTC (link)

Mary was staring up into Antonin's eyes, her eyebrows creasing slowly, her lower lip now being pulled into her lip halfway. Antonin didn't make her feel uncomfortable, but more so nervous -- after all, she had just gone up to him, barely knowing the boy, and snogged him. Not even a simple peck on a cheek, either; a full-blown snog that Mary had seen in films countless times. Also, not to mention Antonin probably wasn't expecting that to be a way for Mary to greet him, since that wasn't what people generally did in the first place. Mary didn't plan on going up to anyone else and snogging them without so much as a warning, that was for sure; not only was it embarrassing, but also not very classy.

Thinking momentarily about Antonin's question, letting her lip go from between her teeth, Mary sighed barely and scrunched up her nose. "Well, I saw people coming here, and curiosity killed the cat, no?" she asked rhetorically with a quiet laugh, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at herself. Mary's eyes followed Antonin's to her shoulder, where his hand was still resting, then trailed up his arm once it was off of her, all the way up to his shoulder and neck, then to his face, finally allowing their eyes to lock together. Mary was slightly intimidated by Antonin, because he appeared to be so stand-offish to everyone, even her, when she didn't think she gave him any reason to be. It was maybe unreasonable to feel that way, since she hardly knew Antonin, but she couldn't help it.

Once again, Mary's lip was pulled between her teeth at Antonin's next words, glancing up to the streamers she could see, trying to come up with something to say. Antonin's voice was quite loud, due to the music, and Mary's voice wasn't any softer, but it still made her feel like she should've been cowering away in fear or something of the sort. "This really isn't usually my scene, but what can hurt to try something new, you know? It's not like I get to be a rebellious -- because I don't think this is really allowed -- teenager all the time, so do it while I can," she answered, her words coming out slow and precise, like she was thinking a bit too hard about the answer she gave him.

Although Mary had answered Antonin's unspoken question before, she said, "I'm alright, thank you. And yourself?" she added, being completely courteous in the sense that she wasn't going to only talk about herself. "Haven't seen you around lately, either," Mary mused, as though she normally would see him on a daily basis, but that was hardly the case. The conversation was awkward, but maybe they could get passed that, if they tried hard enough? Or maybe they wouldn't need to talk for much longer, for one reason or another.

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