RP: Do you think I'm special? Do you think I'm nice? Date: June 10, 2000 Characters: Malachi Lestrange and Lavender Brown Location: London Park Warning: None Public/Private: Private Summary: The first time that Malachi and Lavender meet he paints her portrait in a park. Status: Incomplete
Malachi loved afternoons like this. He loved the gallery - the slight echoing on the large, beautiful walls full of paintings and floors with stands holding statues - and found comfort in what feelings that hung in the air. But there was nothing like sitting outside in the park on beautiful afternoons with the air slightly humid and children running around, adults taking strolls, and people walking their dogs along the paths. The air was fresh and the outdoors green and having a feeling of being new.
He'd heard horror stories of how rainy and polluted London was. His friends at home telling him that he wouldn't be able to last a day there when he'd transferred from the Paris gallery to the London one as curator. He wanted to reach out to his family's history, to his pure English heritage. Raised in shores of Nice, France and moving to the city of Paris when he got out of Beauxbatons. But London didn't let anyone down - it was full of life, art, freedom, and just a feeling.
Now, on a day off from the gallery, he sat outside in the park, feeling the fresh air around him, smelling rain in the air despite the clear blue skies and sun beating down on them with his easel in front of him and paint beside him. He was doing portraits for those who approached him and in the meantime sketched people a bit farther away who didn't, a picture of the park and the day. His charcoal pencil slid across the canvas, leaving an echo of the line he'd imagined for an outside.
Looking up briefly, his eyes fell on the blond a few feet away from him. Normally he'd wait to see if she'd approach him first. But only a couple times he broke his own routine, calling out to them. The blond woman before him was about his age, slender and shapely. She was, in short, beautiful with the sun shining nature highlights in her hair.
In a perfect English accent that masked any side of him being raised in France, he called out to her. "Excuse me, miss! Would you might modeling for me?" He gave her a flirtatious, charming grin as he waited for her to either blow him off or come toward him.