gj thread: alden and septima
Archived old thread from GreatestJournal;
Alden: The soft scratching of quill on parchment was the only sound in the room, the mop of scruffy hair bent over the desk, Alden Darnell’s attention fixed on the runes he was painstakingly translating into more understandable English. It was something he had been looking forward to finally being able to tackle for the past few days, ever since the request had arrived by owl. He all but lived for the challenge of times like this, when dialect or some over factor had made translation hard or confused.
A faint worry that he had forgotten something buzzed about softly in the back of his mind, Alden ignoring it will well practised ease. Frankly, he would be surprised if there was a time when he didn’t forget something, be it small or something large and important. At least once during his teaching time at Hogwarts the professor of runes had entered his classroom, blinking in surprise at the group of students all patiently for his lesson to begin. Alden paused in his work, quill hovering above the parchment and the half translated word as the memory of that class and the embarrassment he had suffered afterwards when the tale had travelled down the grape vine had been huge even if he had acted as though he hardly noticed. Alden was good at that.
Surreptitiously, Alden leaned back, chair creaking softly in protest as he balanced on the back two legs in order to look around the door of his office and into the main classroom he taught in, the room filled with all manner of items, most relating to runes but a few simply to do with history. It was all connected however – everything had a story and everything was connected. To his relief the other room was empty and devoid of students which meant at least he hadn’t forgotten something like that again.
Whatever it was, it would come back to him in time, Alden letting the chair sink back onto the four legs it was really designed for. Nodding to himself, he laid the quill down, not noticing the half finished word as he stood, mind now fixed on the other important constant of his life – tea.
Septima: Septima paused outside of her colleague's office. She didn't like to disturb any of the other professors, although if she had to pick one to bother, Alden would be high on the list. He seemed so difficult to truly ruffle, and after her recent "run-in" with Professor Snape, that would be practically a treat.
She knocked, and pushed the door open just a little. "Excuse me, Professor Darnell," she said. "I found this on the floor outside the Great Hall -- I think it must belong to one of your students." She waved a little rune chart in the air.
Alden: With a quiet little hum under his breath – the noise hardly enough to be noticeable – Alden pulled out the first teabag that had been brewing the drink with a flick of his wand. A second flick sent in into the bin and he repeated both movements, having adhered to the theory that you add enough for how many people were drinking it and then another for the pot. Besides, you never knew when someone might pop in.
As in on cue to his thoughts, there was a knock on the door, Alden glancing up first at the door that led into his classroom and then over to the door that led directly onto the corridor. It was one that didn’t see enough action, most of his students coming through the classroom and to his vague surprise he saw the familiar figure of Septima Vector.
“Come in Professor,” he greeted, letting one of his small smiles appear on his face as he settled the tray and teapot down on his desk. “I’ve just brewed a fresh pot of tea, would you like a cup?”
Septima: "Thank you, that sounds very nice indeed." She pushed the door open more properly and moved into the room, seating herself on the opposite side of the desk from her host. "Here," she added, passing him the parchment. "There's no name, but the handwriting looks unfamiliar to me, so I don't think it's one of my students. But I recognize a beginner's runic translation when I see one, so I thought you might be able to identify the owner." She smiled.
Alden: Alden accepted the parchment with a soft hum, idly wondering which of his students was almost as forgetful as he, to leave a piece of homework behind. But then again, if there was one thing Alden wouldn’t have forgotten, it would be some translation. He may stop mid sentence and in some cases even mid word, may get distracted from his current task time and time again but he wouldn’t utterly abandon it like the un-named careless student had. Not that he would have punished them too harshly if they had turned up without the work but if one of the more active teachers who enjoyed that sort of thing had found it, he shuddered to think what would have happened to the unfortunate student.
“Yes, I see…” Alden remarked softly, eyes fixed on the scroll as he unwound it, reading the work and trying to recall if he recognised the handwriting. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t – he didn’t have time to remember that sort of thing – but the Rune’s professor was confident that he had a stack of marked work somewhere about the room from the same year as that level of competence which would hopefully give him a handwriting sample and name to compare it against. “Well, I hope the person who lost this isn’t panicking too much about the loss,” he said at last, rolling it back up and giving his visitor another full view of his smile. He pointed his wand at the cupboard which contained his vast collection of china cups, mugs and teapots, muttering under his breath and swishing the wood, calling a second one to him so that Professor Vector had something to drink from.
Septima: "If I may?" Septima offered, brandishing her own wand. At Alden's puzzled expression she smiled, gave a little wrist-flick, and produced a small platter of her favorite biscuits. "Tea just isn't tea without these," she explained. "My brother, who lives in Iceland, sent me some of these last year, and I'm afraid I'm rather addicted to the things. They're a traditional sweet over there." She picked up a biscuit and studied it almost reflectively.
Alden: He picked up his own cup as Septima summoned up a plate of biscuits, eyeing the inside for a moment as though he expected his tea to magically just appear in it without any – magical – effort on his part. Alden nodded absently as she explained away the food, noticing without thinking about it that she had a brother in Iceland – it was always interesting to know random things about people even if the memories lurked in the subconscious, ready to be pulled free at the most unexpected of times.
“None for me. Biscuits tend to get crumbly and then the flakes fall into the tea and that just ruins the taste,” Alden explained, shrugging rather self-consciously as he spoke. Not all biscuit were like that of course but when you were working and there was one in your hand it was only too easy for Alden to become distracted for a second or two longer than he should and the next thing he knew there was a whole biscuit floating and then drowning in his drink, Alden mournfully watching as his tea became crumb ridden. Even worse were the time he hadn’t realised what he had done and taken a large mouthful of his drink only to find sodden food trying to kill him by lurking under the surface. “Best to avoid disasters as much as possible.” He added, picking up the teapot and carefully pouring the golden rich coloured liquid into her cup and then her own.