Who: Niki Urquhart (Narrative). When: September 23rd. Morning. Where: Braxton's house. What: In which Niki talks to his wand. His actual wand, you pervs. Rating: Low. Status: Complete.
Niki was a sprawler and a turner when it came to sleep. He tossed and then he turned, and he wriggled and he twisted as he burrowed under blankets, looking for the most comfort and the most warmth. But there was always one thing that was consistant when it came to Niki and sleeping. He always had his right hand tucked up under his pillow, fingers gripping tight to his wand.
He slept with his wand - he did everything with his wand. It had long ago 'told' him that they shouldn't be parted. And so even in sleep, he clutched onto it, fingers gripping tight, as if some bedbugs were going to try and come and snatch it away.
The wand whispered to him in dreams, always there, a presence in his mind even when he had left the waking world behind. And it was there when he stirred, a ray of sunlight hitting his face.
Niki grunted and grumbled and pulled the blankets up higher. He always tugged the blankets closed at night, because he wasn't a huge fan of the sun, but his closing job had been sloppy and rushed, and a sliver of space was left. The sunlight spilled through that crack, and given the time of day (late morning) it happened to shine right on his pillow.
Which stirred him enough to shift him to wakefulness. Although with much grunting and unhappy noises. Eventually he flopped onto his back - still holding tight to his wand - and opened his eyes. And then sat up. His hair stick out all over, making him look a fright - but what else was new.
Niki drew his hand out from under the pillow and brought his wand to his lap. He smiled at it, and lightly ran the fingers of his other hand along the length of it. "Hello," he greeted it, as if it was an old friend, and to Niki, it was.
"Yes, we'll do some more Transfiguration today," Niki agreed. Not really thinking that the little oddities that came when he Transfigured - like the troll in the music box instead of the ballerina - might have been his wand giving its two cents. Not that he would have minded.
"I don't think Braxton would like if we Transfigured his bed," he said thoughtfully. "I told him. That we'd keep it to my room. Or outside," he explained. His head cocked between what he said, as if he was hearing a response. He was, the words tickling inside his ears, inside his head, deep in the recesses of his mind.
"Well. We could Transfigure my bed. But we'd have to put it back after. I need somewhere to sleep, and the floor isn't comfortable," he replied dutifully as he kicked the covers back and climbed out of bed. He didn't bother to make it again. Braxton's House Elf was always so nice and did it and he always returned at night to a nicely made bed. Of course the House Elf might be in for a bit of a surprise if he came in when Niki was Transfiguring his bed.
He got dressed first though, striping off his pajamas and replacing them with black pants and a black t-shirt, and running a comb through his hair so it wasn't sticking out all over. And then too his wand from wher ehe had tucked it in his pocket, as soon as his trousers were on.
"Don't worry. I won't let anyone take you," he promised, when tickling words of 'worry' whispered to him, filling his ear with the soft whooping sound of a bird's wings. "Not anyone. Not ever." His fingers curled tighter, until his knuckles were white from clenching, and something flashed across his face before leaving. He felt a funny prickly feeling against his spine, below his neck, where he had a fwooper tattoo. And then he shook his head and tucked his wand into his pocket again. "You're my best friend," he added, patting his pocket, feeling the comforting ridge of the wand there. And in some ways, the wand and its voice was his only friend, these days, Braxton aside. Niki didn't seem to mind. Or maybe he just didn't notice.
"I hope there's pancakes for breakfast," he said as he left his bedroom.