Kennedy Stowell
Bruised Knees
Posts: 338
Registered: 12-16-2006
Member Is Offline
Mood: Spaz
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![[*]](./images/aventure/default_icon.gif) posted on 8-20-2009 at 04:09 AM |
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Hallway Alcove - Afternoon
The Accord of Cleaves was founded in seventeen…seventeen sixty-nine, by the… <The scratch of the quill paused against his paper as he thumbed
through a few pages of the book held against his thigh at an angle, hazel eyes scanning the text as a furrow knit his brow. Catching the flesh inside
his bottom lip between his teeth, he bit lightly and traced a line with his finger, writing the information down as he read it.>
<The lanky youth had returned, currently occupying an arched alcove overlooking one of the main courtyards, one long leg dangling with the other
knee crooked to give a writing surface, however narrow and awkward it was. Tucking a lock of hair behind his ear to get it out of his eyes, the
shadows of exhaustion had deepened the angles and hollows of his features, his thin frame appearing all the more rail-like beneath his threadbare
robes.>
<From the rumors, he’d been removed from Hogwarts after taking ill for an indeterminate time and had just arrived several days ago. Bombarded by
stacks of work that he’d missed in his absence, he was uncharacteristically focused on the task, though he still had to take pauses to work the cramps
from his spider-like fingers, stretching his legs with a stroll through the grounds during dinner. His manners and gait had slowed, dampened from
their typical vibrancy and gregariousness, the change itself drawing little notice save from an errant professor that remembered his name.>
<At the flash of a distant lightning strike, Kennedy turned his gaze out the window to watch as the rain came down heavily , soon running in
rivulets from the rooftops as he pulled his robe closer to his chest, overlapping the fabric despite the absence of a chill in the air. Looking back
to the paper, he resumed writing with a quiet clear of his throat.>
Kennedy Stowell
7th Year Gryffindor
Played by ~Maddy
“What does the path of nature say to you? What does it say?”
“It tells me to save you.”
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Mila Bellarus
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| posted on 9-3-2009 at 07:50 PM |
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<What a fucking waste. Just look at Mila with her golden hair and her polished polite-girl appearance, her strategically placed jewelry,
her subtly altered uniform - she was a sunshine kind of girl, because zero clouds meant that there was time between classes to lay herself
out on the edge of the fountain, roll up her sleeves, throw on a pair of sunglasses, and read the latest magazine on the most fashionable whoever this
season while her skin darkened. God forbid she walk outside. Her blouse would wither and soak up whatever excess moisture dripped out of hair that
plastered unattractively to the sides of her face. Instead, those afternoon rounds Mila was so fond of had to be inside today, and boo hoo,
but there were just so many avenues and twists and turns within the castle, half the time the United Kingdom decided to drown itself under constant
rainfall, she discovered something new. Classes hadn't disappointed. Mm-mm, pretty androgynous girl and death-by-fucking Ravenclaw boy? Yes please.
Meaningless flirting was just what it sounded like, though - meaningless. Every once in a while, she found herself staring boredly out of the closest
window, tapping her quill and thinking about all those wonderfully simple quiet conversations she'd had with Kennedy. He was a higher thing, a more
important person. Obnoxious come-ons and silly attempts to 'adjust' her skirt were above him, according to Mila, and so she never bothered to put on
the bimbo act around him.>
<But back to the present. What the fuck was the Accord of Cleaves and why would anybody want to sit and read aloud about it? Tiny fists
clenched into balls at her sides, Princess Gryffindor set her mouth and turned the corner to follow that voice, and, and-->
OhmyGod, Kennedy!
<Kennedy looked like a cancer patient, or would to somebody who bothered to take a good look at him before launching themselves up into the window
ledge to his left. Hugging both legs up and propping her face, huge blue eyes and all, up over her knees, Mila wedged herself in as far as she could
and absolutely did not shake the shit out of him out of overkill enthusiasm.>
Mila Bellarus - Seventh year Gryffindor HBIC
Small time! and you're dreaming of the big lights!
Screen life! you went looking for a good time!
Painless! don't you wish you were weightless!
Famous! from this moment you're fated!
Advice, agents, and taped late night whiskey
Tiny cups for a tiny lady
Opera heels are swiftly growing indecent
And a lady in descent
Falling forward towards the
Cosmopolitans and ladies
Looking for pills in draperies.
sono_katii
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Kennedy Stowell
Bruised Knees
Posts: 338
Registered: 12-16-2006
Member Is Offline
Mood: Spaz
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| posted on 9-7-2009 at 04:28 PM |
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<A half-breath was taken as a jolt of awareness shot through him and shook him from his singular studies. Licking his bottom lip to try to wet the
dry, lightly cracked skin, he swung his eyes over his shoulder to see the rushing approach of Mila. All gold and sweetness, Kennedy found himself
wondering what made girls seem perfectly put together in the way she was.>
<All too dizzying and complex for his seventeen-year old brain to put together in any kind of sensible order, he brought up one of his trademark
smiles that always bordered on apology. Positively endearing, but it lacked its usual unaffected muster as he tucked his book beneath his leg, the
quill lowered from parchment.>
Hey Mila…hi. <Clearing his throat to relinquish the frog suddenly residing somewhere in his windpipe, he straightened his spine, sitting
up a bit from his gangly slouch he’d adopted in the windowsill. Kennedy hoped rather than believed that such small adjustments to his posture might
present her with something a little more palatable than how he felt. Transparent. Weakened from an indefinable fear that had become so ingrained in
his heart, he hardly knew how to exist beyond that constant state of nervousness.>
How are you? It’s been…wow. A long time, huh? You look…amazing. <Not able to find a better word, his pallid cheeks seemed to brighten, flushing
with life as he nearly flinched after an awkward pause.> Sorry, that didn’t come out right. I mean, if it sounded bad or anything. I was just
trying to say that you look good. Healthy. Yes…
<It was comforting, perhaps, that some things never changed. He hoped she didn’t hear the timid growl of his stomach. Were his hands
damp?>
How have you been?
Kennedy Stowell
7th Year Gryffindor
Played by ~Maddy
“What does the path of nature say to you? What does it say?”
“It tells me to save you.”
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Mila Bellarus
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| posted on 9-8-2009 at 04:01 PM |
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Oh, you know. <Lifting her arm out from the crook of her knees, Mila went limp wristed for the universal sign of so-so.> Are
you okay, there? Hey, hang on, I just got this stuff in the village - it's new, but it works.
<There wasn't very much space to spare between two students stuffed up into one window, so she was very careful about any sharp bits that might
have jabbed or poked or prodded Kennedy, regardless of how little of him looked soft. In fact, based on the tiny upward glances Mila was sneaking
through her hair, he was about as knobby and injury-prone as she was - why look at those elbows, those could slit somebody's throat! And speaking of
throats, any doubts about whether or not Kennedy was, in fact, a boy, not that the size of his hands or feet or his bone structure could mislead a
person, he certainly had a very nice adam's apple about him. Hold on, what was she doing? Right, thinking about adam's apples while digging
through her purse for a tiny orange package of what looked like sweets, but obviously wasn't. Obviously. Mila was blond, without a doubt,
cast a yellow halo wherever she went, but she wouldn't have given anybody sweets for a throat problem. That was insane! Insert awkward mental titter
here, and thank God for concealer, without it, she might have gone red from doing nothing but looking through her purse. Fucking hell, this wasn't a
science project. Nobody was asking her to examine micro-organisms through a microscope and comment about their..whatevers.>
<Nobody got Mila this tied up. Nobody. Not her arrogant, short boyfriend, not the attractive Ravenclaw from class, not Caleb, when he was acting
like a brute, not even that flat chested girl. Only Kennedy made a short trip through her handbag feel like a high speed chase so that even with
concealer dotted around her cheeks, her ears were still as red as red could be.>
Oh! Here, this, yes, that was what I was looking for, this is it. And here, just to make sure you aren't worried..
<Here was the problem with that purse. Once the wrapper came off of the tiny, orange ball she was squeezing between both fingers, it went straight
in and disappeared from her memory instantly. Mila popped the thing into her mouth, held out her hands, stuck out her tongue, and basically did a
wonderful rendition of a non-verbal voila! Oh, and the hallway suddenly smelled like oranges.>
There's one for you. And your throat.
( I actually did not plan that, my little mental-Mila started going nuts all by herself. :P )
Mila Bellarus - Seventh year Gryffindor HBIC
Small time! and you're dreaming of the big lights!
Screen life! you went looking for a good time!
Painless! don't you wish you were weightless!
Famous! from this moment you're fated!
Advice, agents, and taped late night whiskey
Tiny cups for a tiny lady
Opera heels are swiftly growing indecent
And a lady in descent
Falling forward towards the
Cosmopolitans and ladies
Looking for pills in draperies.
sono_katii
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Kennedy Stowell
Bruised Knees
Posts: 338
Registered: 12-16-2006
Member Is Offline
Mood: Spaz
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| posted on 9-9-2009 at 12:20 AM |
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I’m alright. Just came down with something bad for a while. Nan said I was out for a month, just sweating and saying stuff in my sleep. I don’t
remember much, which I guess is good, right?
Thanks. <Without any real restraint or hesitation, he’d reached out for one of the offered goodies with calloused fingers, his stomach giving a raw
little twist at the citric scent, but he was hungry. That was a good change, or so he’d always been told. Placing it between his lips with deliberate
care, shutters to a split soul fired rapidly in blinks, the Morse code of tell-tale surprise. Both brows shot up, and gawky angles and sharp
definitions transformed miraculously into a brilliant expression of simple, child-born joy.>
<He just couldn’t think. There was something about the moment that overwhelmed him, but whether it was her presence in particular or the act of
sharing air with another living being remained a mystery, even to him. Feeling that prickle behind his eyes and the squeeze in his throat, his lips
broke into an open, honest smile.>
I can’t remember when I’ve been this happy. <He blurted out, not worrying about whether or not she’d think it was childish or silly. Giving way to
a light laugh, the radiant lightness in his heart was manifold and coming from every cell as he saw her sitting there. A miracle of kindness, his
Madonna. Blinding for that one, pure second in a world that would soon smother him away, she was perfect. They were perfect, just as they were.
Children, and never to know themselves beyond the innocence of sitting in that alcove.>
<The soft hush of the rain silenced laughter from across the courtyard, and Kennedy rest his head back to the stone, that dopey and wholly
infectious smile softened but lingering. Paper curled and forgotten in his lap by now, his fingers were toying with the fine filaments of the quill
feather, enjoying the way the strange ridges felt beneath his fingertips.>
<He felt warm for the first time since he’d come back, and knew enough about life not to question it.>
I think I’m going to be sad to leave this place.
Kennedy Stowell
7th Year Gryffindor
Played by ~Maddy
“What does the path of nature say to you? What does it say?”
“It tells me to save you.”
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Mila Bellarus
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| posted on 9-10-2009 at 04:36 PM |
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Like a coma?
<Instinct shot one of Mila's cold hands straight up to Kennedy's forehead, palm flat against the fever region.>
Oh, thank God, you don't feel warm now. Then again, you're by a window. And it's raining. Shouldn't it be muggy? Never mind, we have spells
for that. I miss being outside.
<By all means, the clouds should have backed off and scampered over towards the ocean for the way she turned her head and scowled at them. Inside
was for studying, for when Mila pulled her overly expensive designer pair of reading glasses, the same kind she could have gotten generic for the same
effect, and pawed through stacks and stacks of philosophy books. That was her favorite - Magical Theory. The younger teacher, that Sparrow boy, he
brought up such good questions and started so many thought provoking discussions that she was always in the front row, feet poised on the tips of her
toes, hands clasped together and ready to shoot up at any second to answer a question. These days, not even the professors seemed to care about their
lesson plans. Why, who needed learning when people were dying? Mila did. More than that, she needed a distraction from everyone's gloom and
doom limp-shoulder attitudes, because it felt like their very auras were sucking the life out of her as she walked by. Kennedy, naturally, was the
opposite. More and more, Mila fell asleep in the library across her textbook stuck somewhere in that magical space between consciousness and sleep
exploring happier, older memories - discussions with Kennedy in the common rooms, lunches with professors, barefoot picnics outside.>
You can't leave, not before me. I don't think you understand these people. I mean, they're not bad people, I don't have anything against them
and I'll talk to them, but you're.. <Knees bobbing, Mila re-arranged her feet nervously.> you're my favorite. I don't feel like going back to
bed when I see you. I could walk into a classroom lately, see the same blank, morose look on twenty different faces, and it just makes me want to
sigh. You, on the other hand, make me want to run around and act like a little girl.
<Glee, joy, whatever Kennedy wanted to call it. He animated her, plain and simple.>
I missed you.
<'Missed', in this case, should have taken on a different meaning. It needed more emphasis in the English language, like ultramissed or
supermissed, or something that Mila couldn't quite explain tugging at her stomach when it took on that extra importance simply from the way she said
it.>
Mila Bellarus - Seventh year Gryffindor HBIC
Small time! and you're dreaming of the big lights!
Screen life! you went looking for a good time!
Painless! don't you wish you were weightless!
Famous! from this moment you're fated!
Advice, agents, and taped late night whiskey
Tiny cups for a tiny lady
Opera heels are swiftly growing indecent
And a lady in descent
Falling forward towards the
Cosmopolitans and ladies
Looking for pills in draperies.
sono_katii
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Kennedy Stowell
Bruised Knees
Posts: 338
Registered: 12-16-2006
Member Is Offline
Mood: Spaz
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| posted on 9-20-2009 at 11:33 PM |
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<A bright laugh broke from him, because honestly, he couldn’t help it. Eyes squinting with the smile that her question produced, he shook his
head.> No no, nothing like that. I think it was the flu. A really bad one, but the nurses said that a lot of things have been going around and to
not worry about it. <Something about his words showed his relative ignorance on the matter, or his blind faith in the words of others when it came
to matters of importance in regards to things that were far over his head. He had no issues admitting it.>
<The curve of his lips softened as she touched his brow, in truth not feeling warm, though his skin was perhaps a touch clammy. Was he nervous? It
was habit by now, the not-so-subtle wipe of his hands against the thighs of his trousers. He hardly even noticed it anymore when he was talking to
her, or to anyone that produced that level of excitement in him. He didn’t entirely understand the sensation in his stomach when he smelled her
perfume or caught a glimpse of gold being swept behind her ear, but Kennedy would equate it to being happy to see his friend. Why wouldn’t he be? His
only companion for an entire month had been outdated Muggle magazines with a flurry of frightening information.>
Are you graduating this year? I thought you were in my year. <He asked in total innocence, momentarily worried and flustered to think she might
leave before he would, or that he’d leave her here when she was so clearly in need of some happiness, or at least a good friend. He had always hoped
for the latter, and when she spoke of him being her favorite –anything-, and that she’d missed him, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.>
I missed you too. <Before he could think of what to say, his lips spoke from his heart, leaving his mind still reeling in the dust of trying to
comprehend that he was Mila’s favorite. He was Mila’s something, when he was certain he wasn’t much of anything to anyone. His childhood had raised
him to understand humility and insignificance, and there he’d kept himself safe, just under the radar. Kennedy didn’t mind being forgotten after all
this time, even expected it, but years of being inconsequential would never compare to the sound of those three simple words and the sweet rush that
came with them.>
<Swallowing, his Adam’s apple bounced a few times as a slow smile spread from one corner of his lips to the next, his hazel eyes shining. No, he
didn’t want to scare her. Growing awkwardly and painfully aware of his own crooked angles, he sought to unbend his knee, sending the scroll slipping
from his lap onto the floor. Whispering a curse akin to ‘Mother of Merlin’ which was getting fairly scandalous for the likes of Kennedy, he moved to
get his feet safely on the floor and stoop down, snatching up the scroll before straightening and pushing stringy locks from his face.>
<Giving her a downright goofy grin, a flush had risen to his cheeks.> Did you have somewhere to be? Because I could always walk you there, if
you like. Or we could just…you know…walk. I’ve been sitting for a while, and the weather isn’t so bad. <Cue another snap of lightning.>
Kennedy Stowell
7th Year Gryffindor
Played by ~Maddy
“What does the path of nature say to you? What does it say?”
“It tells me to save you.”
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Mila Bellarus
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| posted on 9-24-2009 at 06:49 PM |
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A fever?
<As Kennedy stretched out, Mila tucked herself into the corner better than any circus contortionist could ever hope to, all so that he could have
room to move freely - he must have been a frail boy underneath all of that height and length he paraded around, half fitting into his own skin. What
would that feel like, anyway? A fleeting sensation image crossed her mind, imaginary winter and a non-existent bed, with Mila pressing her face
against that fever-hot flesh and drawing in some of the heat. There was something there about one person drinking from another's suffering and the
parasitic nature of humanity, but honestly, her idea was more along the lines of seeking comfort. It startled her mid-movement, and she nearly tripped
out of the window sill on her way down.>
Wait, flus involve a fever, right? That's..geez, maybe you'd better stay inside. Not that you're weak, just that your..body, it's probably recovering,
and if you got sick again on account of me, I'd never forgive myself. Graduating?
<Mila was so sucked into her own thoughts that math just didn't have any room to squeeze in. Years? Graduation dates? Maybe he was right, but her
mistake was simple - anyone who said or implied leaving struck her as having to do so without leaving in a normal way. Abruptly, like that. Needing to
go somewhere abroad suddenly, skipping out because of an overblown flu, something along those lines. And here, all Kennedy meant was his
graduation. Excellent, way to misinterpret something, play the feminine card, and blow it out of proportion. It was a miracle only Mila's
ears glowed red.>
I thought -- no, you're right, I just thought something else. You missed me.
<Not a question, a statement. Her mouth curved up into the most sincere of smiles, all flattery and gratitude for the fact that something so simple
would make her feel ten pounds lighter for at least the rest of the day.>
No, no, I didn't, but I'll walk with you wherever you want to go. Or we could just wander. But..do you mind if I hold your hand? I know it sounds
stupid and juvenile and we're teenagers, but I..like simple things like that. And you seem like the kind of person I would get the most enjoyment out
of doing something simple with.
<Kennedy had nice hands, the kind of hands that looked big and strong and made hers feel tiny and birdlike in comparison. Still, she couldn't help
sucking her teeth and struggling against looking embarrassed for such an awkward, childlike request when she extended her own.>
Mila Bellarus - Seventh year Gryffindor HBIC
Small time! and you're dreaming of the big lights!
Screen life! you went looking for a good time!
Painless! don't you wish you were weightless!
Famous! from this moment you're fated!
Advice, agents, and taped late night whiskey
Tiny cups for a tiny lady
Opera heels are swiftly growing indecent
And a lady in descent
Falling forward towards the
Cosmopolitans and ladies
Looking for pills in draperies.
sono_katii
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Kennedy Stowell
Bruised Knees
Posts: 338
Registered: 12-16-2006
Member Is Offline
Mood: Spaz
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| posted on 12-26-2009 at 11:29 PM |
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I don’t remember any fevers, but that’s probably because I don’t remember much. I went to gather some Moon’s Call for the professor, and
things went…yeah. Weird. I had the distinct sensation of being pulled underwater, but that would be strange, because I wasn’t anywhere near water.
<Mila was given a glance and a weak smile, his eyes almost gray in the shadowed corridor as they walked.> My Nan’s nurse told her I was lucky,
though. Lucky! Fancy that. Kennedy Stowell is lucky. Wish she would have told that to Professor Murray. Though I don’t think he would have believed
her.
<Ah, Kennedy. He could exist in his own little world for ages before realizing that nobody else was there. But somebody was. Mila was there and she
was talking to him, though he tended to find himself thinking about her in pieces. It was usually her hair, or the way her skin always looked perfect.
Not a smudge of dirt on her, and he didn’t know how she kept her clothes so clean. Or why she always smelled nice. Or the fact that he found himself
comparing her eyes to things like the sky or jewels he read about in a book somewhere. Poetry. He was ass at poetry.>
Hands? Mine? <Catching the tail-end of her question and her reasoning, both of his brows had shot up towards his hairline, his eyes gone
wide as he tried to think of an answer. Glancing down at his hand, calloused and stained as it was, Kennedy tried to rub it against the side of his
trousers.> Uh, yeah. Sure. Just…got a bit of ink on my ha-
<Pillar vs. Kennedy. Walking smack into the deceptively sturdy surface of that stone support beam, he was dazed for a moment, pulling back as he
put his hand to his nose, blinking slowly. Cheeks turning a nice, vibrant pink, he looked to Mila, his voice muffled behind his hand.>
M’forry.
Kennedy Stowell
7th Year Gryffindor
Played by ~Maddy
“What does the path of nature say to you? What does it say?”
“It tells me to save you.”
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Mila Bellarus
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| posted on 1-6-2010 at 06:28 PM |
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Weird. <Mila lifted her head like she was sniffing the air - which she wasn't, this was more one of those I'm-a-blond-super-detective! moments
where she used body language borrowed from mystery plays she'd seen as a child to seem aloof and shrewd. The effect was cornier than she'd thought,
because just about everything Mila did in front of Kennedy hadn't been practiced in front of a mirror. What she did in front of other popular girls,
well, that always had.> Totally weird. Is Professor Murray mean to you? I mean, he isn't the smiley-smiles type, more the
bend-you-over-your-desk-male-or-female-when-nobody's-looking type, you know, all stern and that, fuck you with a ruler - err, penetrate. Screw? Sorry,
I'm not trying to be vulgar. He's just very strict.
<But if he was mean to Kennedy, Mila would be mean to him. In a nuisance sort of way. Like a fly with hair extensions.>
Oh, yes, your ha--Ohfuck, you're abou--
<--t to get intimate with a hard surface. And not in the good way. Mila clasped her own hands over her mouth and then promptly..well, jumped on
over, delicately poking at his face and flicking at his hair in an extremely worried, not-quite-motherly way. This kid and falling..he
just..Jesus.>
Are you alright? And this isn't the best time and all, but I was thinking, since you're so..nice and lovely and such, and my own age and all, I'd like
to go get..ice cream with you. Or books. Ice cream or books, whichever you like best. Not..as..fr..well, as friends, maybe, good friends? Really good
friends? Do you need ice? I know spells.
<Breathe!>
Mila Bellarus - Seventh year Gryffindor HBIC
Small time! and you're dreaming of the big lights!
Screen life! you went looking for a good time!
Painless! don't you wish you were weightless!
Famous! from this moment you're fated!
Advice, agents, and taped late night whiskey
Tiny cups for a tiny lady
Opera heels are swiftly growing indecent
And a lady in descent
Falling forward towards the
Cosmopolitans and ladies
Looking for pills in draperies.
sono_katii
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Kennedy Stowell
Bruised Knees
Posts: 338
Registered: 12-16-2006
Member Is Offline
Mood: Spaz
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| posted on 6-21-2010 at 02:52 AM |
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<Allowing for a moment of recovery, Kennedy stood there in humiliated silence, the surface of his cheeks scorched with embarrassment as he sought
to wiggle his nose and get rid of the stars that still twinkled in his eyes. He was quite aware just how ludicrous and ridiculous he probably seemed
to her, but he also knew she was still talking to him. She wasn’t laughing, wasn’t poking fun at his uncanny ability to make a fool out of
himself.>
<The smile returned far more readily than before, the tip of his nose a bit scuffed and forehead adopting something of a vertical red mark, but
miraculous being of accident he was, the gangly youth scraped himself back together and managed actual words.>
Professor Murray isn’t mean. And…ouch…but really, he’s not really mean. I’ve met some people that have been, well. They’ve had something
going on that I didn’t understand, but nobody that I’d call mean through and through. <The white sheep of the notorious Stowell family professing
such an undimmed and helplessly optimistic observation about human nature? Maybe the head trauma was a lifelong journey of diminished capacity. Or
perhaps, it was just one of his many faults that couldn’t help but endear him to others.>
<Scrunching up his nose, he immediately relaxed his features and sniffed sharply, giving her a dopey grin. All was right in the world of Kennedy as
he offered that calloused hand in proud defiance of his own awkwardness.> I think we can be really good friends. And I know this place that serves
the best chocolate and strawberry ice cream. I mean, if you like ice cream. Have you been to Madame Truffle’s? They have these honey pastries that
are…wow. Over the moon<The boy had stars in his eyes, the smile walking a dreamy line as he adjusted his bag over his shoulder, waiting.
No, hoping she’d say yes and maybe, just maybe, share his fondness for all things strawberry.>
Kennedy Stowell
7th Year Gryffindor
Played by ~Maddy
“What does the path of nature say to you? What does it say?”
“It tells me to save you.”
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Mila Bellarus
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| posted on 6-22-2010 at 09:19 PM |
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So you're saying he acts like that because he has baggage.
<Pause for a moment while Mila wraps her head around baggage. There was a quick, patchy skim over an extremely priviledged childhood, a flash or
two of rising through the ranks of the petty world of women in primary school, and finally, her comfortable no-strings-attached social position in
Hogwarts, which, while not the cream of the crop, was certainly poised high above both bullies and the bullied. Baggage and its effects on how people
tended to behave simply couldn't click with her, and of course Mila had a second of spoiled-girl shame where her ignorance came shining
through to cut her right out of what could have been a very deep conversation concerning the finer points of Ian Murray's psyche. She was embarrassed,
especially after all of those hours spent reading up on a variety of subjects in an effort to connect with just about everyone on every level. That
mouthbreathing girl who sat in the back row and constantly broke her glasses? They could talk about insects together, because Mila had studied up on
the types of things any bug collector would sallivate over. A jock? No problem, she knew what was going on in quidditch, polo, football, every play A
to Z. But when it came to actual, tangible worldly expeirence, her lack of it had never kicked her in the ass so swiftly.>
<How stupid, wanting to understand what all those brooding Slytherin goths were going through with their tortured childhoods and long missing
virginities and screwed up parents. All of this longing and overthinking came out in the form of a small, dissatisfied huff that disappeared as
quickly as it had shown up.>
There are people who are mean through and through, though - just like there are people who are good through and through. They have to exist. They play
necessary parts in the world.
<Sort of like a play or a show, but she couldn't explain that without sounding like a fucking idiot.>
Are you sure you're okay?
<Now that the hysteria was melting off, Mila could ask questions like that without looking like she was about to sick up a vital organ. Now, as far
as Madame Truffle's was concerned, that was an arena she wasn't too terribly ignorant in.>
Mhm. My parents used to pick things up from there all the time for my sister and I, until she got married that is, the twat. But yes! I'd love to go
there again. Don't worry, all about the sweets. Especially ones that contain the words 'honey' and 'strawberry'. Mm. Big fan of white chocolate, too.
What's your pleasure?
Mila Bellarus - Seventh year Gryffindor HBIC
Small time! and you're dreaming of the big lights!
Screen life! you went looking for a good time!
Painless! don't you wish you were weightless!
Famous! from this moment you're fated!
Advice, agents, and taped late night whiskey
Tiny cups for a tiny lady
Opera heels are swiftly growing indecent
And a lady in descent
Falling forward towards the
Cosmopolitans and ladies
Looking for pills in draperies.
sono_katii
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Kennedy Stowell
Bruised Knees
Posts: 338
Registered: 12-16-2006
Member Is Offline
Mood: Spaz
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| posted on 6-23-2010 at 11:12 PM |
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Well….yeah. <Kennedy answered, his offered hand withdrawn unless she took it. Either way, he didn’t appear particularly offended or affronted if
she didn’t – it was simply an offer, and one that was freely given. He just didn’t want to keep it out there and risk more social oddity in her
presence. Plus, she was someone Kennedy considered very pretty and kind, and therefore the world must have thought the stars of her. Naturally, she
wouldn’t want him pointing things at her in hallways. She probably got that a lot.>
<He began to walk with her, the smile for once sobering and registering a maturity most wouldn’t think him capable of as he considered the hallway
in front of them. Pillars beware! This time, he’d be ready.> I know Professor Murray can be strict sometimes. I’ve heard him say things in class
that have made other students cry. I know I’ve felt stupid…well. Silly in his class, but that’s because I let him down. I let myself down by
getting confused, not doing the assignment, doing the wrong assignment. That has to get difficult with teachers like that, you know? When
they’re smart and know what’s going on out there. They’re just trying to make us better. To make it so we have some kind of a chance, a way to take
care of ourselves when we’re gone. So no, I don’t think it’s that he’s bad through and through. I think he just had a lot of tough things in his life,
maybe he didn’t have a friend or had parents that were hard on him. Those are just examples, I don’t know for sure. I just don’t think he enjoys being
the way he is. Most people don’t, not when they’re unhappy like that. <Ducking around a corner, he was taking a few steps ahead to scope out the
area. Was he expecting someone? Was he trying to protect her in his own small way?>
<The answer to his behavior came a mere moment later, once he was assured they were alone in the corridor. The rain was heavy, providing a steady
white noise to kill any echo the stones might have achieved otherwise.> I’ve only met one person that I couldn’t figure out. Like that.
<He frowned, and it was amazing how open his features were, how easily read especially when he was being serious, his voice dipping down to a
confidential murmur.> My sister. When she was born, my mother was really sick. She and one of the Black’s had been in a fight, and she got hit with
a spell. That’s what my father told the others. But when my sister was born, I don’t know. She didn’t cry. She didn’t make a sound, but she
watched us. Especially me.
Even when she grew up, there was nothing there. You know, when you look in someone’s eyes and you can see them there? Like right now. <He glanced
to her, the line of his lips softening as it curved into a half-smile, the gray-blue of his eyes touched by the empathy he felt.> I can see you
when I look at you. When I looked at my sister, I saw nothing. And she would do things. Terrible things, and she didn’t feel anything. My parents
were…they did things that hurt people, but I knew why. I knew they were raised to believe it. I knew they had both been children at one point. They
were innocent, but things happened. And even though I grew up the same way, I made different choices. It never felt okay with me, and if I
hid enough, they left me alone. In that way. If I pretended to be weak and silly and stupid, they didn’t try to make my like my brother and
sister. Or like them. They thought I was useless and I found ways to survive. To protect myself from all of those things in life that can make a
person get confused. Lose their way.
And that’s all it is, Mila. I just know it. I can feel it like Seers can feel that something’s going to happen. They read signs, and I read people’s
eyes. And it tells me they just got lost somewhere. Some of them want to stay lost, but some will let you help them. But as long as you think about it
that way, whenever someone is being mean to you or cruel – just think about them like they’re lost. Picture them as children and it’s hard to hate.
Outside experiences can create people, can change them for good or for bad. It isn’t their fault if they make the wrong choice, because it shouldn’t
be about blame, right? Who does blame help? It won’t change things that have happened, and it won’t make anyone better. Shame only creates more hurt.
As much as I may be afraid of my family, and however much the things they’ve done might have hurt me, I know that I’m okay. I can’t hate them.
<Kennedy had stopped at the arched entrance to the courtyard to watch as the downpour began to dissipate. Storm clouds still twisted and churned in
the skies overhead, but small breaks of sunshine were somehow finding their way through. He smiled, a strength behind it not commonly perceived in his
frail form and bumbling manners. Taking a deep breath, he looked to Mila.>
I love that smell, don’t you? And strawberries. Anything strawberry. Give me a strawberry crème and I’ll follow you forever.
Kennedy Stowell
7th Year Gryffindor
Played by ~Maddy
“What does the path of nature say to you? What does it say?”
“It tells me to save you.”
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Mila Bellarus
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| posted on 7-1-2010 at 12:33 AM |
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<That was what was wrong with exchanges between people who had a flicker of interest in one another. Person A was always overanalyzing it, always
getting nervous, never giving themselves enough credit, beating themselves up - and little did Mila, oblivious as ever in her role as person B, have
any idea that Kennedy had taken on the symptoms of person A himself while she was too busy looking at a hallway she'd seen a thousand times to notice
his hand, or his facial expressions, or any of the intricacies of their conversation and interactions. This had a simple reason: For all of her
talents and ideas and hours studying, she was a textbook airhead whenever she was about to go out with somebody. Some people had anxiety attacks,
other folks spent days in the mirror tweezing and primping, she entered a sort of dreamlike trance envisioning the complex tastes of honey pastries
and all things strawberry - maybe they'd make them just right, so that they were tart enough to cause that..that tingling or pulling in the backs of
her cheeks, just shy of ripe. Shit like that ballooned up enough to smother Mila's attention for the better part of thirty seconds before noticing out
of the corner of her eye that it had been withdrawn.>
<Cue the mental litany of fucks.>
He's vague, though, it isn't your fault you got confused, it's his job as a teacher to make sure you understand what the assignment is all about.
<Mila could probably find Kennedy with a knife in his hand, a pile of dead bodies all eviscerated and hemmorhaging blood between himself and the
proverbial door, and she'd ask him who had done such a thing! An oversight, naturally, but she couldn't help it.>
I know what happened to him.
<Mila paused, and everything she said that followed had a thick, dreamlike quality to it.>
The exact event - well, I wasn't given extensive details, but I have been told something about his past that would account for why he's so awfully
rude. That's neither here nor there, though . . I mean, you're absolutely right assuming he has, I guess, what could be called a reason, but
in my eyes, there's no trauma large enough to suffer that automatically forces the sufferer to take it out on perfectly nice, charming boys who are
trying to impress their teachers and get good grades. If he's that incapacitated, he can quit.
<But there Kennedy went again, with his calm, non-judgmental St. Mary viewpoint of things that was so serene and so understanding that it nearly
shamed Mila to death for not understanding why Ian Murray couldn't stop acting like a twat for an hour or two - and then when he started to break
through the norms of carefree conversation, that was when his voice really began to soak into her head and slow her steps. There was a story she'd
been read aloud once as a child - le petit prince, or something like that. It came in a plain blue-gray book with a lighter gray near the binding and
had no cover, but one of the ladies on the waitstaff would sit her down and read bits and pieces aloud every once in a while. The language wasn't
particularly fancy and it didn't evoke any grand imagery in her head, but there was something about the way this lady said everything,
something about her tone or inflection, it always commanded the attention of the entire room without being loud enough for anyone to hear it in the
next. That was what Kennedy's story reminded her of, the 'magic voice', as the maid called it. Mila realized that the bits and pieces she
knew of his personal life were few, far between, and so vague that this was as detailed as he'd gotten, and it successfully ensnared her.
What a fascinating creature. Now, that part about being able to read into peoples' eyes, that shook her up a little bit. For a split second, Mila
wondered whether or not Kennedy could see her for the vapid, entitled, manipulative creature she really was - and of course, that worry was dismissed
about as quickly as it had come.>
Applying that theory, that people who have been traumatized or seen bad things in their lives take it out on others, then how do you explain you?
Evolved? Adapted? What makes you more prone to digest what you've experienced in a healthy way than, say, Professor Murray?
<..Hopefully she had the price for strawberry everything-in-the-shop on her. If she fed the guy, she could ask him deep questions forever! Happy
thought, right? Well, something compelled Mila to start chewing her thumbnail.>
Mila Bellarus - Seventh year Gryffindor HBIC
Small time! and you're dreaming of the big lights!
Screen life! you went looking for a good time!
Painless! don't you wish you were weightless!
Famous! from this moment you're fated!
Advice, agents, and taped late night whiskey
Tiny cups for a tiny lady
Opera heels are swiftly growing indecent
And a lady in descent
Falling forward towards the
Cosmopolitans and ladies
Looking for pills in draperies.
sono_katii
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Kennedy Stowell
Bruised Knees
Posts: 338
Registered: 12-16-2006
Member Is Offline
Mood: Spaz
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| posted on 7-7-2010 at 12:29 AM |
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<Even if he could have seen what, as Mila thought was her ‘true self’, Kennedy wouldn’t have believed a word of it. And it wasn’t because he was
naïve or slow, though that pretense had saved his skin time and time again. It was that he made a conscious choice – an effort to see each person for
the best that they could be. He held firm to it not out of stubbornness or willful ignorance, but because he possessed an innate knowledge, as he’d
tried to express so passionately to the blonde angel at his side that probably thought he was being a dork. That realization made him blush, but the
fact she was still walking with him, still talking and seeming engaged in the conversation rather than making excuses as to which class she needed to
get to, well. It was a good sign, right?>
I don’t think he’s incapacitated. <The tawny-haired youth answered carefully, slowing to a stop as they got wrapped up in their thoughts. Kennedy
scratched the bridge of his nose with a stained thumb and considered how best to put it without making a total fool out of himself. Believing that to
be downright impossible, he opted for truth.> I don’t think he’s ever really been loved. Or something made him forget what real love is. And I
don’t just mean romantic love, like between a boy and a girl. But knowing that there’s someone in the world that loves you – that would lay down their
life for you, no matter what happens or what the situation is. If someone doesn’t feel that, the world can be hard to deal with, you know? I think
somewhere along the way something happened, and it made it hard for him to trust that. Or to trust people in general, I guess.
And if you lose that faith, you start seeing all the shadows instead of the places where the light shines the brightest. You start seeing only the
things that go wrong. So, while I think part of it is that he’s under a lot of stress dealing with the lot of us. Especially me. I mean, did you hear
what happened last week when I tried that whole…Finnigus Web charm? Absolute disaster. <The ‘you’ve got to trust me on this one’ look he
gave her was comically serious, imparting the dire nature of his follies in his magical pursuit of Charms Class. He tried to fight off the urge to
smile that always overtook him when he looked at her, and he very nearly won this time save for the small lilt of humor in his voice as he continued,
the corners of his expressive mouth threatening to curl.> I had to stay and clean for hours after class. Luckily nobody was hurt, but that’s my
point. If you have all of these things and doubts and fears rolling around in your head, things that happen on the outside are going to feel a lot
bigger. It’ll be harder to stop and calm down and draw on that place if it doesn’t exist. The place inside of you that love creates that can make you
calm. The place that can help you see people for what they really are.
And, you know, he may say unkind things, but he’s a good man. When it comes right down to it, I think he’d give up his life to protect us. I think all
of the teachers would here. I think that’s kind of what Hogwarts is built on, right? Working together, helping one another no matter what comes along.
<As he spoke, it was incredible how the words danced along and rang with a simple, honest conviction. There was not a bone in Kennedy’s body that
doubted the things he was saying. But now she was asking about him, and he licked his bottom lip to wet it, his features set in a look of
concentration that was difficult not to adore.>
Well. When I was born…well, not when I was born since I don’t really remember that at all, but when I was a kid growing up, I knew I
was…different? Okay, I’m not explaining it right. <He tapped his chin with one finger, the corresponding elbow held in his hand as hazel eyes
swiveled towards the rafters. Thought!> Plants grew wild whenever I was around, and animals just kind of came up to me and never got scared. I
could feel things from everything around me. But it wasn’t just that. I never really felt like I was a part of the people around me. Does that make
any sense? <Looking back to her, there was hopefulness there, caught in the angular lines of his face, his eyes trusting.>
There was this time I got lost in the forest outside my parent’s house. I was nine, maybe ten years old - before my family was killed and before I was
sent to live at my Nan’s house. I’d found my way to this small break in the woods. It was just a small clearing, but I must have been far from home
because I’d never seen it before. I was scared. I don’t know how long I cried for someone to help me. <He paused, the rain catching the light as it
dripped from the spouts just outside the eaves where they stood, his eyes following the prismatic patterns. Continuing, his voice had that soothing
softness, richly genuine and warm. Authentic.> I waited for someone to find me, but nobody did. I think I slept, but when I woke up, there was a
man there. He was hurt. I remember a lot of blood, and I knew he was sick. He couldn’t heal himself. I could feel that he was dying, so I did what I
could to help heal him. And I wasn’t scared.
<He smiled a little and looked to her.> It’s something I’ve always known how to do. I didn’t know who he was, I never asked his name, but he
thanked me before he left me there in that field. Eventually, I was able to find my way home, and I remember years later when the Aurors came to kill
them…my family…he was there. He hid me. I knew what he was then. I knew what he thought he stood for and what ‘side’ he thought he was fighting on.
But I also knew that I’d seen something that night, when he saved me. I’d seen something in that field where I saved him. It was then that I
understood that people aren’t good or bad. It was when I realized that it all comes down to choices, and a person’s thoughts can change so quickly
because of what happens inside and outside of them, and for so many different reasons. <Pressing his lips together as if to suppress some feeling
he wasn’t sure about, they slowly broke into a brilliant smile, the furrow at his brow smoothing.>
That was when I knew I wasn’t so different from him, and that my choices might have been the same as his if I lived his life. And I’m sure a lot of
people would call him evil and think there was nothing left worth saving. But he saved me, Mila. <He leaned in close then, whispering to
her now in a fervent, impassioned voice as he held her eyes. A world of wealth resided there, beautiful and powerful and wholly unfamiliar to her.>
I was filled with the knowledge of my purpose. The reason I was saved was to understand them, all of them. And with everything that I am, I’m meant to
save them. Even if it’s just one, and even if it takes my life to do it, I knew that I was right. I was given this life to believe in them, even those
that refuse to be loved, even if it breaks me, and to fight for them when nobody else will fight. So maybe if that man, a murderer, hadn’t given me a
chance and protected me, I might not be here today. I wouldn’t be here to give people like Professor Murray a chance, or anyone else for that matter.
It doesn’t matter what a person does in life. There’s always a chance, Mila.
Kennedy Stowell
7th Year Gryffindor
Played by ~Maddy
“What does the path of nature say to you? What does it say?”
“It tells me to save you.”
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Ian Murray
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| posted on 7-27-2010 at 09:11 PM |
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<The real problem with Ian wasn't that he wasn't really a bastard. Somewhere inside him had been a boy rather like Kennedy. A boy that had
remembered his mother's birthday, brought home every lost stray and had been able to make his sister cheer up when no one else could. That sweet kid
hadn't the defenses in place to keep himself whole when life had broken him. The world was a bewildering, cruel place that required liquor and pills
to cope with, as well as the icy outer layer he'd pieced painfully together. That was all that was visible now, as icy perfection swept around the
corner. The cigarette was in hand and all that was visible, Ian having been finally prompted to be more discrete about his other vices. He'd be lost
in the all important speculation of how many pills he needed to get through his next class without the shakes or something equally obvious when the
'sweet' sounds of students drifted down the hall. Ian was fairly sure they were supposed to be somewhere else at this hour, but was a little vague on
that whole 'schedule' thing, however often McGonagall had gone on about it. A brow lifted, a mental shrug and he drifted that way. Recognition had
eventually kicked in, the sound of Kennedy slowing his light footsteps further.>
<They were not loud and the conversation was intent with the result that only bits and pieces reached even Ian's sharp ears. It was, however,
enough. Long black lashes any girl would even dropped down over his eyes and Ian let out a slow breath. The stupid, optimistic idiot. Handing his
heart over to the girl Ian had marked as a useless socialite, unless she was reforming this week. Speculating about Kennedy's non-existent love life
stung less than trying to absorb the hope, the concern behind that cheerful appraisal. Ian was feeling more cynical than hopeful, considering his
stomach was working itself into knots and he could feel the craving shiver up his spine. Idiots. He forced a swallow despite his dry mouth and glided
lazily around the corner, the faint frown threatening to become a scowl. Kennedy received a half hearted nod, Ian finally pulling the unlit cigarette
from his mouth.>
Evening.
You\'re too important for anyone
You play the role of all you want to be
But I, I know who you really are
You\'re the one who cries when you're alone
You think I can't see right through your eyes
Scared to death to face reality
No one seems to hear your hidden cries
You're left to face yourself alone
Where will you go
With no one left to save you from yourself
You can't escape the truth
I realize you're afraid
But you can't reject the whole world
You can't escape
You won't escape
You can't escape
You don't want to escape.
all the drugs in this world won't save you from yourself
Professor of Charms- Lynn
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Mila Bellarus
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| posted on 7-27-2010 at 10:31 PM |
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<Incapacitated had originally been the greatest word she could dig out of her vocabulary to describe people who seemed totally turned off by the
idea of giving anyone else the benefit of the doubt - and it wasn't too shabby a vocabulary either, not when Mila's childhood spared her
ample time to curl up in bed next to her favorite reading lamp and dig into a little bit of dramatic fiction aimed for pre-teen girls. The point
wasn't whether he really was emotionally barren or not. Frankly, she was delighted to have a catalyst to pry more words out of Kennedy - not that he
was quiet quiet, no, but the big adorable happy face across from her did just so happen to have some of the only worthwhile opinions within
fifty kilometers. It wasn't very nice of her to exploit someone else's personal trauma just so that she could shove Kennedy up onto a soapbox, but
Mila's mind wasn't cruel or calculating enough to ever put what she was doing into such blunt terms. She had such a bad habit of mis-labeling what she
was actually doing most of the time that, had her frantic excuse for a female brain been a store room, nobody would have been able to find a thing.
Paprika was salt, pepper was cumin, and so on.>
<But God forbid it ever catch her ears that anyone assumed Kennedy was the thing Mila was exploiting. Wouldn't she just pity herself to death?
Boo-hoo, I've gone out of my way to make myself look as shallow and brainless as possible, and people are treating me as such, what a difficult
life, right up there next to the story Kennedy was telling. Before he'd really started up, her mouth stood poised for another rapid-fire opinion
that didn't quite make it - see, he was right, she knew and understood this, but a few seconds ago, cleaning up the mess she'd made by basically
calling a teacher emotionally retarded seemed a lot more important. Things like that smothered out under the weight of Kennedy's sincerity, a ten ton
giant of a thing guaranteed to put other storytellers and autobiographies to shame. Definitely had to be his voice, just like she'd assumed.
The content spoke for itself, but there was, again, some bizarre mystical quality to how he spoke that enriched the words themselves. Whatever it was
got right down there under Mila's skin and shut her mouth again so fast, you couldn't have counted to one by the time her teeth snapped back together.
Usually, adults were too self absorbed to really focus on what another person was saying - they had grocery lists and appointments and lunches to
worry about, more important things. Kids were the only ones who got sucked into Little Red Riding Hood so deeply that they lost track of time
and even their sense of location. Noises, background talk, thunder and lightning, nothing but nothing could break that magical concentration, and
those were just fairy tales.>
<If you took an engaging story like that and added the personal to it, well, that was more than enough for Mila to freeze in place with an
expression on her face somewhere between worship and awe. Nobody deserved a pat on the head for their circumstances, not when sob stories were a dime
a dozen these days. But like he'd just said, Kennedy was different. Kennedy was different in about six ways from Sunday, obviously tweaked far beyond
the reaches of most mankind if only because he'd actually figured out how to empathize without someone else shaming him into it. But God,
when that smile lit up his face near the end, all she wanted to do was start jumping around and waving her hands, ranting and raving about how, oh,
absolutely, there was somebody in the world that loved him and would lay down their life no matter what happened or what the situation! Now, in a few
hours, would she credit that to getting swept up in a wave of emotion brought on by recieving such an intimate and private part of someone handed to
her on a silver platter? Maybe, maybe not. But right then and there, for at the very least now, Mila was as enamored with Kennedy as anyone
could be. A little red, sure, sort of glassy in the eyeball department, but inexplicably and totally moved. It was something like catching a flying
bug as a kid - you were just floored to have it, but a whole lot of care needed to go into not smooshing it or disturbing the powder on its wings.
Most children couldn't figure that out far enough to be appropriately gentle.>
<About two seconds after Kennedy finished off with her name, - intimately enough to make Mila want to call for a fainting couch and a folding fan -
she snapped right back into reality, stuttered through a couple of blinks, tried to swallow with a mouth whose spit content was nearing none, and
nodded in a way that made it totally obvious she was groping for words. Not just groping, frantically clawing at.>
No, I -- Defini-
<And then Mila's brain made a shrill noise while her skeleton tried to eat its way out of her skin. Gee, paying attention would have been super
great when Mister Speak-of-the-Devil showed up and nearly emptied Mila's stomach, teeth, and face all over the carpet. Such was being shocked to
fucking death by what looked like a Ken doll with some leftover estrogen and eyelashes begging for a tube of her best mascara. Mila actually went
so far as to clutch her heaving chest, because, who cared? It wasn't like she had enough control over her facial expressions to look like she hadn't
nearly swallowed her own tongue. Two gold stars for her, though, sweeping a handful of blond out of her face, ripping her stare off of Kennedy, - with
about as much effort as it would take to physically move a boat on dry land - and glancing up at Professor Murray all while dying inside.>
Good evening, Professor Murray. Love this weather we're having. Just swell.
<Swell? Really? Part of her wondered how absorbant Kennedy's shoulder was for whenever she burst into tears and started begging the scary
veela-thing not to kill her. Always assume the worst! That Mr. Murray had heard everything.>
Mila Bellarus - Seventh year Gryffindor HBIC
Small time! and you're dreaming of the big lights!
Screen life! you went looking for a good time!
Painless! don't you wish you were weightless!
Famous! from this moment you're fated!
Advice, agents, and taped late night whiskey
Tiny cups for a tiny lady
Opera heels are swiftly growing indecent
And a lady in descent
Falling forward towards the
Cosmopolitans and ladies
Looking for pills in draperies.
sono_katii
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Kennedy Stowell
Bruised Knees
Posts: 338
Registered: 12-16-2006
Member Is Offline
Mood: Spaz
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| posted on 7-27-2010 at 11:18 PM |
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<Bless his heart, he yelped. Granted, it wasn’t some over-the-top, cartoon-style holler, but more of a yip – a comedic sound of alarm and
astonishment that belonged to someone far smaller than he, and perhaps far younger. And of a different gender. Dropping his things in the process of
all-but-stumbling backwards in abject surprise, he had been so lost in the way that Mila was watching him, like she really saw him when he talked. It
was a weird sensation, alien, but Kennedy was utterly immersed by the simple feeling of being listened to. Usually it was the rolled eyes and the
convenient excuses to be elsewhere, but not with her. She was special. She was different, he didn’t care what other people said.>
<She was nice.>
<But all of that went away in a cold, suffocating moment of pure, paralyzing horror. His mind skipped rapidly over what was said, and even he
couldn’t recall all of it. Still, he knew enough to understand that Ian didn’t like being talked about. He didn’t like anything private to be said or
discussed, or anything to be implied. Kennedy was quite sure that Ian kept his life private because he didn’t want anyone’s sympathy and wanted to
keep it just that – private. He could respect it, and instantly, he was thinking of possible apologies. Kennedy had spent his whole life apologizing
for just about everything, but when he felt he really did something he shouldn’t have? That natural tendency flew into overdrive before he could help
it.>
P...Professor Murray. I’m…I’m really sorry. I was only…I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I only thought about...I didn’t mean any harm by it. And Mila,
she…it’s not her fault. I was the one that was talking, and she was just here, and she didn’t mean anything by it. I shouldn’t have said anything and
if I embarrassed you or made you angry, I’m really, really sorry. I’ll stay after classes and help clean if you want? Or if you want me to not be
around, I understand that too. I mean, it was stupid of me and I shouldn’t have…you know. <All of this came out in a stammering torrent of abrupt
stops and starts, painful y embarrassing to witness, and the poor kid almost seemed tearful from the sincere guilt he felt in having speculated about
the man to another student. What right did he have? Who was he? It must have been infuriating to listen to. Ian must have really thought he was a
simpleton now.>
<Resembling little more than a kicked dog, Kennedy found it hard to look at Ian, but he’d force himself to. It was the right thing to do, and he
didn’t want the Professor to think he was lying to him or trying to manipulate him. Nothing could have been further from the truth, and he didn’t even
consider picking up his things that now littered the floor.>
Kennedy Stowell
7th Year Gryffindor
Played by ~Maddy
“What does the path of nature say to you? What does it say?”
“It tells me to save you.”
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Ian Murray
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| posted on 7-27-2010 at 11:28 PM |
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....
<Ian felt vaguely sick and not from the invasion of privacy. Kennedy was nearly cowering, as if he was horrid monster that had conveniently jumped
out of a nearby nightmare. Or Snape, which was much the same thing. The sincere waves of guilt wafting from Kennedy put out his irritation as quickly
as water dumped on a fire. It disturbed him on some quiet level, to have Kennedy gaze at him as if any moment Ian was going to pick up the stick and
bring it down again and again.>
I'm not going to hurt you. Either of you.
<Perfect brows had drawn together and blue/violet eyes had locked on Kennedy's pale face. The sheer whiteness of the skin had ever feature and
slash of color (eyes and brows) leaping out in helpless appeal. Ian was tempted to lift both hands and hold them palm out in placation, the faint
frown deepening.>
Besides, this isn't nearly as bad as the porngraphic story where Snape and I realize our tragic destinies and mutual attraction before screwing like
rabbits. In painful detail.
<Ian had considered other things. Annoyance, disgust, a helpful reminder that those people Kennedy felt so sincerely for would rip his heart out in
their teeth while -smiling- into his face. Oh well. He'd consider a reality check and/or scrubbing the floors when their hearts had started beating
again.>
You\'re too important for anyone
You play the role of all you want to be
But I, I know who you really are
You\'re the one who cries when you're alone
You think I can't see right through your eyes
Scared to death to face reality
No one seems to hear your hidden cries
You're left to face yourself alone
Where will you go
With no one left to save you from yourself
You can't escape the truth
I realize you're afraid
But you can't reject the whole world
You can't escape
You won't escape
You can't escape
You don't want to escape.
all the drugs in this world won't save you from yourself
Professor of Charms- Lynn
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Mila Bellarus
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| posted on 7-28-2010 at 12:06 AM |
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<What Professor Murray thought of Mila was hanging around somewhere at the bottom of her priority list, right in between what Locke did with his
spare time and whether or not first years here had sex. But what he thought of Kennedy was moving up through the ranks a mile faster for
every second the mouth next to her kept going on about how he'd been the one talking and how sorry he was and how much he'd just love to help out
after class to make up for shaming the good Professor's name right before his very ears. And while Mila started off staring at Kennedy's profile in
blind shock, that tapered down into a kind of introspective frown that didn't do much to hide what disagreement there was from her end - she didn't
think his version was too fair, nope, not to say that it wasn't more than a little sweet to jump out and take the big feminine blond bullet for her.
Miracle of miracles, the lady kept her place, head politely - see: humbly - inclined and both hands knotted behind her back, scrutinizing Ian
only when he'd announced he wasn't going to 'hurt' them. Why would he? Not physically, anyway; not even Mila's initial opinion on the guy was so low
that she'd imagine him actually beating students with a leather belt for daring to talk about him. That was what they were, students, and
she'd bet an ovary that the rest of them had all joined in on a discussion about the teachers and whatever they imagined them getting up to at least
once.>
That's kind of a biased version, what he's saying. I don't think you care very much about what students think of you - you're a seasoned teacher, I'm
sure you're above petty gossip..but that wasn't what we were doing, and it's nowhere near what Kennedy was doing. Not that you'll lose any
sleep over it, but all he was saying was that not everyone's personality is so black and white that they could be summed up as either good or bad in
response to my basically pegging you as mean..in a nutshell. I apologize for saying so. Obviously you have more to you than..coming off as a
little cranky once in a while.
<Well, someone clearly wasn't too worried about being smacked across the nose with a newspaper - or at least not as worried as she was about
Kennedy coming off as some snarky gossip. The thought honest to God horrified her, right down to her pink pedicured little toes. Ooh, she could
breathe again. People who could sneak around were just booby traps inching everyone around them closer and closer to an early heart attack.>
<Oh, but wait! Listen, an unpleasant mental picture of Murray and Snape in the throes of..lust! Coitus. Eugh. An actual shudder ran through her.
Why would anyone volunteer that kind of information? Why? For what? Ian could consider his revenge taken, goodbye sleep, goodbye,
libido.>
Oh..wuh. I hadn't heard that one. <Awkward. Awkward, awkward, awkward.> I'll keep an eye out. An ear out. Something. Whatever I can..to..let the
public know that you're not into sweaty barebacking with Hogwarts' senior staff member.
<And here came the part where Mila started seriously thinking about excusing herself, but instead shuffled in place and started looking around for
an interesting wall sconce to stare at.>
Mila Bellarus - Seventh year Gryffindor HBIC
Small time! and you're dreaming of the big lights!
Screen life! you went looking for a good time!
Painless! don't you wish you were weightless!
Famous! from this moment you're fated!
Advice, agents, and taped late night whiskey
Tiny cups for a tiny lady
Opera heels are swiftly growing indecent
And a lady in descent
Falling forward towards the
Cosmopolitans and ladies
Looking for pills in draperies.
sono_katii
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Kennedy Stowell
Bruised Knees
Posts: 338
Registered: 12-16-2006
Member Is Offline
Mood: Spaz
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| posted on 7-28-2010 at 12:59 AM |
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<Expression painfully clueless and hopelessly confused, he continued to stare at Ian in a kind of muted shock. He knew what pornography was. He
knew what screwing was. He wasn’t that oblivious. There was, however, a widening gulf growing in Kennedy’s mind as he tried desperately to understand
how those terms would ever be linked to Professor Murray and Professor Snape.>
<A deep flush had entered his cheeks as he became acutely aware that he was staring, and rather rudely, right after having rambled off an apology
that no doubt did more harm than good. And that embarrassment wouldn’t fade, rising up to strangle him as Mila contradicted him and spoke her version.
Perhaps the more accurate version, the more adult, mature way of looking at the situation, but it only made Kennedy feel all the more ridiculous and
fumbling. He didn’t want Mila to get in trouble, and he didn’t want either of them to think he was some stuttering fool. It made him feel like a
child.>
<Mila’s comments about sweaty bears and backs had him tilting his head, giving her a brief but curious look, but finding himself utterly lost as
the two more socially adept creatures held the floor, he could only think to duck down and start gathering up his things. >
Kennedy Stowell
7th Year Gryffindor
Played by ~Maddy
“What does the path of nature say to you? What does it say?”
“It tells me to save you.”
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Ian Murray
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| posted on 7-29-2010 at 11:10 PM |
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Mila: <The hurried, halfway eloquent speech got a slow lift of a brow. Ian was somewhere between irritated and amused, but amusement was
threatening to win out. Seasoned teacher and above petty gossip? Almost sweet. The humility was sparking mild curiousity, being something -new-. Both
brows lifted now, the violet/blue gazing switching to her and holding there for a moment. The imploring glance, the actual concern registering within
the depths of her blue eyes, it registered. Possibly the emerging horror as well. Ian had fallen back on the old adult trick of bringing up a worse
horror than the present one for 'perspective', but would have been highly amused at the result. He'd felt similiarly ill and in need of a bleach bath
inside and out. At least his pain was now shared with a worthy, worthy target.>
My hero.
Kennedy: <And with that, his gaze flicked back to Kennedy, as the boy bent to scoop up his things and try and disappear. It was predictable. The
next encounter or three would probably involve awkward glances tinged with shame (Kennedy) and exasperation (Ian). It was not his problem, especially
as both of his dynamic duo had punished themselves better than he could have. The sensible thing to do would be to move on and let Kennedy stew in
himself for the next year. The boy was not his problem, he surely had better, adult things to do such as get loaded. Ian wasn't fully sure who he was
irritated at, but suspected himself as he sighed and swore, not entirely beneath his breath..>
Oh for fuck's sake.
<A faint smile forced as Ian regained himself.>
Grab your bags and come on, we'll go talk and you can have a butterbeer or what the hell ever. Mila, you can come if you want, I don't care.
You\'re too important for anyone
You play the role of all you want to be
But I, I know who you really are
You\'re the one who cries when you're alone
You think I can't see right through your eyes
Scared to death to face reality
No one seems to hear your hidden cries
You're left to face yourself alone
Where will you go
With no one left to save you from yourself
You can't escape the truth
I realize you're afraid
But you can't reject the whole world
You can't escape
You won't escape
You can't escape
You don't want to escape.
all the drugs in this world won't save you from yourself
Professor of Charms- Lynn
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Kennedy Stowell
Bruised Knees
Posts: 338
Registered: 12-16-2006
Member Is Offline
Mood: Spaz
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| posted on 7-31-2010 at 01:48 AM |
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<Biiiig hazel eyes would stare up at Ian with the swear and the resulting offer of…what? Beer? Butterbeer? Did he know Kennedy’s weakness for
delicious, delicious sweets? Equal parts bleeding innocent and rabid, merciless consumer of sugar-containing goods, he looked both dazzled and
confused as he tried to figure out why Ian would make such an offer.>
…Oh! Oh, you mean me?
<He’d look over his shoulder juuust to make sure, because Merlin’s beard, he’d made that mistake more than once. Turning those eyes back
to Ian, the bright, infectious smile that broke over his angular, sweet-natured face was irrepressible and unavoidable. Really, the kid had a power.
It just wasn’t something most people recognized or cared much about.>
That would be…wow. Great! <Sensing he was on the verge of once more making himself appear completely foolish and overeager, he cleared his
throat.> I mean, that’d be really great Professor Murray. <Gaining to his feet, robes that were worn-through in places tumbled back into place
over layers of hand-me-down and donated clothing, thankfully adding some illusion of padding to his veritable Scarecrow-like frame. Tucking a strand
of unremarkable, stringy hair behind his ear, he grinned goofily and shot Mila a glance, his eyes holding all the hope in the world.> You want to
come, right Mila?
<Despite their earlier conversation, he couldn’t immediately register why she might not want to spend time with Ian, when obviously a teacher was
offering them both free food. Well, drinks anyways. But that brought him to another uncomfortable realization. Glancing back to Ian, his cheeks pinked
as he once more cleared his throat, his bag shouldered. There was no real graceful way to ask this question, so he opted for just being Kennedy.>
I don’t really have any money to spend on butterbeer, Professor Murray, but I’d still like to come. If I can, even if I just sit there. I like getting
out sometimes, and I haven’t been there in ages. As long as that’s okay. <He added hastily.>
Kennedy Stowell
7th Year Gryffindor
Played by ~Maddy
“What does the path of nature say to you? What does it say?”
“It tells me to save you.”
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Mila Bellarus
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| posted on 7-31-2010 at 02:09 AM |
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<About the time Kennedy's beam of hope crashed straight into Mila, she'd been stuck in her position tidied off to the side, completely lost in
thought, with both hands finger-deep in hair trying to work it into something that vaguely resembled a ponytail. Even from underneath the mop of blond
curls, she successfully arranged her own face into a big bright blinding mirror of sunshine to shoot right back at him - oh, and that was very nice of
Professor Murray, offering to let her tag along. The ratio of concern for her reputation over being seen out with yet another teacher and tagging
along to soak up some more of Kennedy's optimism topped out at a good 20:60, so it wasn't too difficult to nod and sweep her hair back by the time
he'd asked whether or not she was coming.>
Oh, yeah, absolutely. And oh, don't worry about money --
<After the whole episode where Kennedy had to vomit up apologies for pulling a classic speak-of-the-devil, Mila had decided he'd gone through
enough embarrassment for the day. Her plan was about as well thought out as-- well, no, it wasn't even remotely thought out. At all. But
observation had taught Mila that money was a sensitive subject with some people, and that a good chunk of those some people sure didn't like charity,
especially not from a female who just so happened to have been lucky enough to be born into wealth. So, really, the next few lines happened without
very much forethought.>
They're having a sale in the village. You know how it's kind of empty because of the whole DEA raiding thing, and how a lot of people are afraid to go
out without..say..a teacher? They're doing this event where they'll have free Butterbeers and sweets every once in a while. My mum and dad send me
notifications and coupons in the baskets I get from them, and today just happens to be one of those days.
<While she was ordering, Mila would just have to make sure that she got ahead of both of them, had enough money on her to arrange all of
this, and did it all out of earshot. Well, out of Kennedy's hearing range, anyway, if the big muscle-pulling smile did anything to set off Ian's
infamous bullshit detectors.>
Sounds like fun!
Mila Bellarus - Seventh year Gryffindor HBIC
Small time! and you're dreaming of the big lights!
Screen life! you went looking for a good time!
Painless! don't you wish you were weightless!
Famous! from this moment you're fated!
Advice, agents, and taped late night whiskey
Tiny cups for a tiny lady
Opera heels are swiftly growing indecent
And a lady in descent
Falling forward towards the
Cosmopolitans and ladies
Looking for pills in draperies.
sono_katii
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Ian Murray
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| posted on 7-31-2010 at 03:03 AM |
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....Yes.
<Ian was SO close to rolling his eyes. Repeatedly. He only just caught himself, but still failed to look amused. He lifted a brow, gaze pausing
only briefly (pointedly) on Kennedy when he looked over his shoulder. The 'idiot' was still implied, though Ian wasn't unmoved when the Kennedy fixed
the full power beam on him. It was like trying to glare at a 2 yr old. Dammit. Ian turned back before the temptation became too great and was walking
again. Briskly. The command to follow didn't need to be said, it was so implied.>
I meant my office. I'm not in the mood for stares.
<It wasn't something Ian usually mentioned, because it sounded vain and smug. Oh, how difficult it is to beautiful and half-veela! There had been
years, where he'd loathed it passionately though. Everyone was awkward at 13 or so and rather than fading into the woodwork when he'd drifted down
halls or city streets, there had been glance after glance. Lustful and envious and all the flavors in between. He'd lost the worst of his shyness, but
still. The glances that reached out and touching him as they didn't dare to do with their hands never -stopped-. So not in the mood.>
<Ian's mouth tightened at the thought, though he said nothing further. For now. He moved briskly enough that they had to pick up the pace to keep
up with him. Down this hall, that one, Ian's trademarked glare motivated students to not comment or assume the worse if anyone spotted them. Then to a
door that Ian was already tapping with his wand, working through a layer or two of wards before it swung open. The floor appeared to be made entirely
of water and was something like stepping onto a firm waterbed. It gave slightly with each step, yet molded itself to support them. They could see the
lift and fall of waves beneath the thin, smooth surface, close enough to touch. The brick walls had been covered with what seemed to be a layer of
glass. Grey, at the moment and gleaming. There was a glass desk and leather chair for Ian and three matched leather chairs before it. The ceiling was
high and had an array of silver metal bands, hoops weaving in out and of each other. Gleaming crystals were tiny shards of glowing brightness, sliding
in and out of the motion. Most of Ian's other tools were tucked behind a glass partition to keep the 'mood'.>
Sit. I'll get the butterbeer.
You\'re too important for anyone
You play the role of all you want to be
But I, I know who you really are
You\'re the one who cries when you're alone
You think I can't see right through your eyes
Scared to death to face reality
No one seems to hear your hidden cries
You're left to face yourself alone
Where will you go
With no one left to save you from yourself
You can't escape the truth
I realize you're afraid
But you can't reject the whole world
You can't escape
You won't escape
You can't escape
You don't want to escape.
all the drugs in this world won't save you from yourself
Professor of Charms- Lynn
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