InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Come blow the Horn of Gondor.."

whistle_willow (whistle_willow) wrote in ecorridor_rpg,
@ 2009-05-02 03:33:00

Who: Art and open as usual
What: Flying in the quidditch pitch when interrupted
Where: Quidditch pitch
When: mid afternoon
Rating: Entirely up to who bites.

So everyone was studying for the test, big deal, so everyone was hiding out in the castle, again big deal, Art was definitely not like everyone for good or bad. Right now she was feeling the best she’d felt in weeks, she was flying, metaphorically and literally.

The wind splashed her face like icy water that somehow just heated her heart, the solitude suited her sometimes, and it was moments like this of just her and the sky, that she lived for. Little seconds in which everything seems to unravel before your eyes in the shape of a cloud or merely with the breeze. Memories tangling and solving in her minds, piece by piece like problems were simply caught in the air.

Art was so caught up, doing swirls and trying unusual moves that she failed blatantly to notice there was someone else there. She flinched at the thought of the “killer” but then she assumed if this was her time to meet him/her it was probably a good one as she had the high ground to put it simple. She turned to look at this intruder, see who else cared so little for study as to be wandering around.

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rubynights
2009-05-03 06:00 am UTC (link)

It was the solitary figure painting a very lonely picture that piqued her curiosity. Now wasn't the time to be doing things by yourself. Not unless you had a death wish, or didn't give a shit either way. Chandler usually fell into the latter category; it was a lot easier to brush things to the side and of yourself as invincible. She was practiced at it now.

For the most part, those who were invincible never did need much company. Which is how she found herself (smoking -- no risk of death there -- and alone) after spending the better part of an hour catching up with anyone who mattered over lunch. Her wandering legs and mind had led her across the grounds, cigarette between cold fingers, irregularly pursed between pink lips. It was the exhales she was enjoying the most though. Seeing what you could do with the smoke before and after it curled languidly down her throat.

Head to the sky was how she saw Art and, with nothing better to do, she decided to see if some fun could be had. Taking a final drag before stamping her butt out on the pitch, Chandler raised a hand in a friendly gesture. "What're you doing, slag? You look most uncomfortable on that thing. Best leave it to the professional, yeah?" she said by way of greeting.

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whistle_willow
2009-05-04 01:00 am UTC (link)

The figure greeted her from the ground, with a friendly gesture and a rather unfriendly phrase, but anything goes and knowing Chandler it was as any British “All right?” you heard at breakfast. She turned around to fly lower and catch up with the girl.

"Professional, love?" She said as she lowered to the ground, without jumping of the broom just then, perhaps she’d race the girl, though she saw no broom on her shoulder, only a delicious ciggy on her lips.

"I seem to recall Ravenclaw as champion of the last match" She went on with a sarcastic little grin.

"I seem to recall catching a snitch right in time” Okay so egocentric could be, but please you got to brag about this stuff, otherwise people forget it.

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rubynights
2009-05-11 07:52 am UTC (link)

Laughing, Chandler waved her hand in dismissal. "Ravenclaw? Please, as if that was a challenge. You couldn't have played an easier game if the players were blind, deaf and dumb." Cold, she shoved her hands in her pockets, shoulders hunched against the raw breeze passing through the pitch.

She eyed the younger girl, debating about which direction she should take the conversation. Art was friends with quite a few people; Gemma, Polly, Claire-- Her brain stalled, clicked over, and a self-satisfied smirk spread across her lips. "How's that Claire Westbane bitch going?" she asked, trying to make it conversational. From what she'd seen in the journals something had gone down between the girls. Chandler couldn't help but wonder if Wes had had anything to do with it.

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