|Maeve Sheridan knows she's better than you. (few_and_far) wrote in wished,|
@ 2009-09-25 09:23:00
|Entry tags:||!1997: 09, !incomplete, blaise zabini, maeve sheridan|
Characters: Maeve Sheridan and Blaise Zabini
Setting: In the hallway leading to the Potions Dungeons at dinner time.
Summary: Scene Lottery: An interesting conversation with a new Hogwarts painting.
Rating/Warnings: Random ridiculousness but it should stay pretty safe if you don't count that.
Lost in her own thoughts, Maeve mounted the stairs that led from the dungeons to the Great Hall, hoping she wasn't too late for a quick plate. She'd taken advantage of the pre-dinner time when the classrooms were at their emptiest for extra work. And she felt it had been time well spent, her notes were now littered with edits and corrections, notations pointing out better methods. She was going through them in her mind, silently committing it all to memory, and didn't notice the activity beside her until the screaming started.
It was more of a yell or, really, a protracted yelp with underlying tones of whimper coursing through it, but either way it was enough to force Maeve to stop and stare at the portraits lining the hall. In a large landscape on her left, a rather dull one that she couldn't imagine anyone had ever paid this much attention to, was a thin, scraggly looking wizard clad in bright red robes. He was holding onto the loose fabric as he ran, full speed, across the painting and was the source of the noise. Halfway across the painted moor he spotted her and turned, running toward the front of the painting, right toward her. "Yeh...." he panted, bending over and placing his hands on his knees as he sucked in, or seemed to suck in, oxygen.
"You, " he tried again, obviously pleasantly surprised when he found he was capable of speaking, "wouldn't know which way to...hey, wait!" Maeve had already started walking away from the man, she made it a point to not converse with someone who ran around screaming for no reason while simultaneously clutching a potato. It was just odd. She continued toward the Great Hall but the wizard followed her into the next painting, waving his arms for her attention. He still had his potato. "That's just rude," he scolded.
"Following me isn't?" Maeve paused, regretting the move to indulge the odd character in conversation.
"You were rude first," he remarked, crossing his arms like a petulant child, "That should count for something. I merely wanted to know if you would be so kind as to help a new fellow find the portrait of Ipslore the Blue?" He held up his potato, pointing at it with his free hand as if she'd somehow not notice it. "He'll be needing - bugger!" His sudden outburst was accompanied by a leap to hide behind a pillar just before a pack of Regency clad wizards, wands held high, hurried into the painting's background. They took a moment to survey their surroundings before hurrying out of frame.
All Maeve could do was stare.
In front of her the wizard meekly poked his head around his pillar, checking if the coast was clear before returning his attention to her. "Really he's more like Ipslore the aquamari-hey!" He chased after her again to another portrait. "This is important!" He insisted, seeming slightly hurt at her continued escape attempt.