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Post by REIGH-ANNE SIMMONS on Nov 30, 2012 6:34:45 GMT 1
Reigh-Anne.Charlei.Simmons [/b][/color][/center] If you say I’m good for nothing,
At least I’m good for one thing. [/color][/right][/i][/b] ---The Entrance Hall was buzzing with people running one way or the other; mostly the first years scrambling around as they explored the castle. She shook her head and returned to her sketchpad. She didn't think she'd ever looked that lost when she was a kid, but then again she wasn't generally trying to find anything during her days off; she had wandered around a lot to look for good places to set up a canvas or draw. Usually she'd ended up in abandoned classrooms, and on occasion she would make her way to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, if only because she knew most people avoided it like the plague. Myrtle wasn't so bad, if you didn't pay much attention to her.
She added a few lines to her page and shook her head. Today wasn't working out for her; her pen seemed to take extra effort to drag across the page. Mostly that was because she had yet to find a subject that she actually wanted to draw; all of these people were pretty average, wearing their school uniforms and making idle conversation in their stereotypical group of friends. She'd done all this before, too many times to count. She wanted something fresh and new to put on paper, not the same old stuff you could find in any school.
She sighed as she ran a hand through her hair and pulled her headphones up. She selected her playlist quickly and let the music block out the sounds of the hustle before she returned to surveying the crowd, subconsciously biting the end of her pen. Pen drawings were her passion today, but so far she hadn't produced anything of merit or value.
She turned the page of her sketch book, staring at the clean, untouched paper and hoping to find some inspiration in the lyrics of her music. Her pen flew across the page, sketching the lines of a boy across the hall, leaning against the wall, a carefree smile on his face. He was a jock; she could tell that immediately by looking at him. Probably on the Quidditch team, and any other team he could possibly join. But he had a beautiful smile and the fall of his hair made her eager to put his likeness on a page and keep it there forever. The words of her song urged her to add wings to his back, stretching up behind him like an angel's.
It was an obvious choice to add clouds to the background, but after a moments hesitation Reigh started shading in all the white space around him, crossing lines of pen to make the darkness seem tangible and real. One white line kept him from falling into the layer of ink around him, and Reigh smiled to herself.
Well, she supposed it wasn't really something of merit, but it was something, at least. She glanced up at the boy again and decided it was indeed an accurate representation of him, and turned the page. Now that she had a start, she hoped it would get a little easier to continue.
[/blockquote][/blockquote] ---And I’d rather be here at the back of the line,
Than ahead of the times with you. [/color][/right][/i][/b]
.::Word Count::.515
.::Credited::. Alone by Nick Lachey
.::Notes::. Reigh's First Post!
.::Thoughts::. I can relate...
.::Wearing::. Here
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Post by SEAN "SPRUCE" WHITEFOOT on Dec 1, 2012 2:47:20 GMT 1
 What was taking Devon so long to get here? He wasn't really complaining, it was his little brother, and all things considering he'd be lucky if Devon was EVER early in his life. Kayla was as tenacious and on time as one could possibly be, and Devon apparently had gotten the exact opposite; Kayla was driven by schedules and work order, Devon was driven by spur of the moment decisions and possible moments of bad judgment - a true Gryffindor, you could say. As for Sean, the middle brother, he'd been caught in limbo between them, not necessarily early for some things, but not so horrendously late that warrants any sort of glaring or yelling.
It was a well known fact that Sean "Spruce" Whitefoot was particularly bad when it came to noticing things directly under his nose, so it was a surprise even to him when, staring out across the Great Hall, his athletic form pressed against a far wall, he spotted someone. Sean's eyebrows jumped up as he watched a pen expertly scrawl across some kind of sketchbook or artist's notebook. Though it hadn't occurred to him that he had very well been the subject of Reigh-Anne Simmons' warm-up sketch, it had occurred to him that she was doing something far more interesting than he was.
If Devon ever shows, he'll find me. Reassuring himself that he could leave his sentry-post by the wall and trust his younger sibling to find him in the throngs of students, Sean pushed away from his spot and made his way casually towards Reigh-Anne. "Ravenclaw, right?" asked Sean when he was close enough that he didn't have to yell to make himself heard or whisper because they were too close. He didn't take a seat right away, his chin tilting down, brown eyes lifting from the sketchbook - which was now on a clean page - to the girl's eyes.
He could tell she was a Ravenclaw considering the table she was sitting at, not to mention he'd probably seen her in the hallways or something. Maybe. Probably. Did it matter? Either way she looked familiar. Himself being a sixth year, it wasn't likely that they had any classes together, but Sean Whitefoot wasn't much for sticking to his own year as far as friendships and acquaintances went. Unless of course you happened to play Quidditch, then he'd take notice of you for an entirely different reason. Sean cleared his throat, his face open and smiling as he finally spoke more than two words to the girl; "I'm Sean Whitefoot, but everyone calls me Spruce." His voice was calm and friendly, a pleasant low tone, though with a subtle rasp from all the shouting he'd done during Quidditch practice.
There, see? He never did understand how other people had such hard time making friends, etc. All it took was a name, then things sorta just built on themselves after that.
Word Count: 512
Notes: ^^; I hope you don't mind that I just had him jump in!
Clothing: Here!
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Post by REIGH-ANNE SIMMONS on Dec 1, 2012 7:33:40 GMT 1
Reigh-Anne.Charlei.Simmons [/b][/color][/center] If you say I’m good for nothing,
At least I’m good for one thing. [/color][/right][/i][/b] ---Reigh began sketching the room, wondering if she could make the castle seem like something exciting instead of just another place where she could go to classes. Or at least, where she should go to classes. That wasn't necessarily her strong point. She would just rather be sitting somewhere, drawing or painting or doing really anything that wasn't just sitting around taking notes. Then again, she never actually took notes - it was so much easier to fill the parchment with faces and places than letters and phrases.
Her music was a little loud, but she didn't think it would bother anyone. Her mother had always told her that she was going to lose her hearing at a young age, and that it wasn't ladylike to shut off conversation with brash and crude words set to music, blah blah blah... Reigh usually answered with a solid, 'I wouldn't have to shut off the conversation if it wasn't so brash and crude to begin with.' She wasn't being pert... well, that wasn't her only reason. She just thought it was ridiculous that calling people names and criticizing their choices was less offensive than a man screaming curse words to music. That's all she was saying.
Reigh-Anne noticed the boy she'd been drawing saunter toward her, and she rolled her eyes. Fan-flipping-tastic. Just what she needed, some jock thinking she owed him her undivided attention just because he came to talk to her. Whatever. She pushed her headphones off just so she could make some snarky remark when he came to talk to her.
"So it would seem."
[/color] Reigh didn't look up from her sketchpad as she answered the guys kind of question. She drew the vague outline of a body lounging against the far wall where another group of guys was standing, placing each one in their proper place. She did glance up quickly after she finished; a Hufflepuff, eh? She wondered if he was a particularly good finder. She was never really sure what it was that was supposed to differentiate Hufflepuffs from other houses; she always assumed it was because they didn't fit anywhere else, but this guy seemed as if he could easily make it in the cocky group of Gryffindors that lounged across the hall, so there had to be something that made the sorting hat stick him in the puff of huffle rather than the partiers that went by Gryffindor. Spruce? Like a tree?She started to roll her eyes before she realized how rude that would be. She debated for a moment if she really cared all that much... No. No she didn't. But she was already past the point where rolling her eyes would have been acceptable. She supposed she should answer with her name. He may be a genuinely nice guy who just wanted to be friends... but she doubted it. She'd seen jocks, and none of them were just friendly. They always wanted something. "Reigh-Anne. Everyone calls me Reigh-Ann, when they call me. Which they don't." Just the truth. She was expecting him to realize his mistake any minute; popular kids didn't talk to her. No one talked to her, except those goody two-shoe types that just wanted to be friends with everyone, and even they got tired of her eventually. And she was completely alright with that. [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] ---And I’d rather be here at the back of the line,
Than ahead of the times with you. [/color][/right][/i][/b]
.::Word Count::.555
.::Credited::. Alone by Nick Lachey
.::Notes::. Reigh is just a jerk, don't take it personally... ^^;;
.::Thoughts::. Whoa I was both not expecting a reply this quickly and I'm amazed at how much of a jerk she is...
.::Wearing::. Here
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Post by SEAN "SPRUCE" WHITEFOOT on Dec 1, 2012 8:16:59 GMT 1
Spruce was about as oblivious to social classes such as jock, geek, nerd, etc as an elephant was oblivious to a beetle scuttling near one of it's massive feet. He seemed to deflect her rudeness, the impatient tone, the cold responses rolling off him like water from the sleek hood of a car.
"So it would seem."
Yep, definitely a Ravenclaw. If he had some difficulty understanding what they meant or what they were even feeling, chances are he'd found himself either a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin. She couldn't have been Slytherin - he just had a feeling.
"Reigh-Anne. Everyone calls me Reigh-Anne, when they call me. Which they don't."
"It's nice to meet you, Reigh-Anne," he responded automatically, though despite the easiness with which those words flowed out of his mouth didn't lessen their sincerity any. Always having difficulty sitting or standing still, Sean glanced around the Great Hall, his attention span fleeting for a few precious seconds - before he was able to drag himself back, sitting down next to her with some reasonable space between them. "How come people don't call you?" asked the Hufflepuff, pulling the strings of his hooded jacket until they were mismatched on one side, then pulling the other until they were even, twisting the metal-covered ends between his fingers.
"I mean you're great at drawing, it doesn't seem like a secret." Spruce said quietly, his tone softened by distraction as he watched her busily move her pen across the page. To someone like Spruce, drawing was about as easy as growing an extra set of ears; he did make a mean set of stick figures though. So it was safe to say he was impressed by the level of artistry; it would bewilder and confuse a guy who always associated friendship with talent and fun hobbies.
Reigh-Anne liked to draw, she was good at it, so why wouldn't she have people talking to her? Of course her pictures weren't moving, maybe that was it? Perhaps because Spruce was muggleborn, he liked the look of them and the fact that they didn't move better than if they had. It looked more authentic. Spruce watched her outline and sketch a bit longer, momentarily ceasing the pleasant one-sided chattering until he could contain himself no longer.
"Drawing anyone I know? Do you always draw other students?" It was an honest question. He wanted to know if he should be more mindful of his loitering, he might end up as another sketchbook page if he wasn't paying much attention.
Not that that would be a bad thing. Artists were cool. Quidditch players were cooler, but artists were still pretty good.
Word Count: 494
Notes: Haha, that's okay. He's completely oblivious to rudeness.
Clothing: Here!
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Post by REIGH-ANNE SIMMONS on Dec 2, 2012 5:45:41 GMT 1
Reigh-Anne.Charlei.Simmons [/b][/color][/center] If you say I’m good for nothing,
At least I’m good for one thing. [/color][/right][/i][/b] ---Well. She wondered if this kid was new or just oblivious to everything. She glanced at him; no, she remembered seeing him in years past, and he was way too big to be a first year. So he was just oblivious, then. Oblivious and dumb weren't always the same thing, but she wondered if that was the case now. Nice to meet her? Why don't people call her? There were some obvious reasons for that in the few sentences that she'd given him, and besides that he'd had several years to figure it out. But whatever. She continued drawing, hoping maybe he'd get the hint and go away. She didn't need some guy looking to make a new friend. She was fine on her own.
But he didn't go away.He complimented her drawing, which didn't make her any more excited to have him there. People had complimented her before, and usually that compliment led into some desire for something from her; would she draw this for them? Would she paint that for them? She was so good, how did she get that good? Could she teach them? No. She couldn't teach them. They should go figure it out themselves, because she was too busy for them.
He just sat there, watching her draw, and she wondered how long he was going to allow the awkward silence to continue. She didn't care, honestly; silence was something she generally preferred. She listened to music to shut out the sounds of people around her, but when she had a room to herself... the sound of a pencil gliding across the paper or a paintbrush smearing paint on a canvas sounded better than any music.
"I'm sure you have eyes, did you not notice the similarities between the paper and your surroundings? I'm assuming you know someone here." Sometimes she wondered if people were oblivious just to annoy her; oblivious and dumb, those were two ways to get on her bad side pretty quickly.
She glanced up at the hall again, taking in the different cliques and catching phrases from different conversations. She was still waiting for the reason he was talking to her. Any minute now he'd tell her that he needed a favor, and she was planning how she'd decline already. After all, one could never be too prepared to crush someone's hopes and dreams.
[/blockquote][/blockquote] ---And I’d rather be here at the back of the line,
Than ahead of the times with you. [/color][/right][/i][/b]
.::Word Count::.393
.::Credited::. Alone by Nick Lachey
.::Notes::. I feel like she's hard to post with. >.<
.::Thoughts::. -humming-
.::Wearing::. Here
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Post by SEAN "SPRUCE" WHITEFOOT on Dec 2, 2012 6:42:55 GMT 1
"Sorry," he said with a light smile. "I'm not used to identifying people by a few sketchy outlines," She was a bit...sharp, wasn't she? Spruce couldn't really tell if Reigh-Anne just always talked like that or if this was how she dealt with new people - holding them at prickly arm's length until she deemed them worthy of a proper conversation. Whatever her reasons, they were fine with Sean Whitefoot; the idea that he was bugging her did cross his mind, but Reigh-Anne struck him as a very forward person, and if he was honestly annoying her so much, she would probably tell him straight up to leave her alone.
Of course he'd prefer if things didn't come to that, so he looked from the happily sketching pencil to the small group of students Reigh-Anne had focused her attention on. Having already forgotten to ask about the picture she'd sketched of him, he seemed to sit up straighter when he took notice of the individuals the talented artist next to him was currently capturing onto paper.
"Patrick Davies aaaand..." He glanced past Reigh-Anne's arm to the other sketchy figure next to Davies, "Septimus Kane," concluded Sean, nodding to himself as he scrutinized the page. Yep, she was pretty good - even though it was just a rough outline, she'd caught Davies' awkward slouch perfectly and the broadness of Kane's shoulders.
Sean shifted, sliding his legs out from under the table to turn around on the bench seat, the middle of his back now pressed against the table, his hands sliding into the pockets of his jacket. "I'll be out of your hair soon, just waiting on my brother," confessed Spruce, his brown eyes shifting to their corners to watch the girl's profile. If she rolled her eyes or showed some signs of relief that she'd rather he didn't stick around, then he'd go back to his post by the wall and wait for Devon there.
If she was content with her...silence and her drawing, then Spruce would deem it safe to stick around and wait here. After all, he wasn't hurting anything, calling her names, or doing anything to make her uncomfortable, right? Girls are funny that way. Guys his own age were easier to deal with, considering he could read their body language a lot better than he could a female student's. Even with his own sister Kayla, he had a hard time getting used to them. Ah well, all of that came with age or something. At least he was hoping it did, and hadn't missed out on the manual on how to properly talk to girls.
Sean, for a few short seconds, contemplated asking the Simmons girl about whether or not she'd caught the last quidditch match, but he didn't really...peg her to be a quidditch fan. Chances are she'd probably just flat out say 'no'. Maybe that's why she drew so much instead of socializing with the throngs of students loitering and passing through the Great Hall? Her socialization skills were a bit rusty...
Word Count: 547
Notes: xD He gets points for trying, right?
Clothing: Here!
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Post by REIGH-ANNE SIMMONS on Dec 3, 2012 23:00:38 GMT 1
Reigh-Anne.Charlei.Simmons [/b][/color][/center] If you say I’m good for nothing,
At least I’m good for one thing. [/color][/right][/i][/b] ---Reigh sighed inwardly. It wasn't the outlines he was supposed to recognize, it was their placement in the scheme of the hall. But whatever. You couldn't educate every idiot in the world, so why even try? But suddenly he was able to figure out who she was drawing when she'd given him an explanation. Did he just pretend to be dumb? Maybe he was a tad slower than the rest. Whatever the case, she didn't have time for his questions or concerns.
She sketched a few more people, a group of giggling girls all wearing their school skirts and sweaters. One of them wore heels, and Reigh could already tell that she would regret that as she grew older. Of course, no one would listen to her, and that was usually the way she liked it. Personally, she didn't see any reason to wear the school uniform unless she was in classes, and then she put it on with loathing. She wanted to express herself, even if no one else understood what she was doing. Sometimes she wore her bright colored converse with her uniform just to piss people off, but usually she had a real reason for what she put on.
Where did the expression 'get out of your hair' come from? It sounded really dumb, when anyone said it, and when she was already putting him down mentally, it didn't help his case any. And did she know his brother? Probably not. She didn't make it her business to learn names. The only reason she remembered that this guy's name was 'Spruce' was because it was such a ridiculous name... well, that wasn't his real name, but she couldn't remember his real name.
"No, take your time. My hair doesn't have plans to go anywhere, anyway."
[/color] She chuckled slightly before she cut herself off. Sometimes she just cracked herself up, and she couldn't stop the laughter that broke through her lips. She wondered if he caught the sarcasm in her words; probably not, since she hadn't really projected it very well. 'Well, he's not awful.' She thought after a while of silence. At least he wasn't really annoying or anything; he understood the value of quiet, even if the hall wasn't in itself quiet. She glanced over at him, taking in the features she hadn't seen from the distance of before. She supposed girls probably fell all over him; he had some nice features on his face, and she'd noticed he had a nice smile. He was well built, but she had been able to tell that from her drawing and spying before. Usually she expected his type to ignore her completely, because they were to busy talking about how awesome they were in the last Quidditch match, or because they had all kinds of popular girls falling over them. Her opinion of him went up a little without her permission, but she didn't fight it. She generally trusted her opinions and intuitions. "So... what do you do?"[/color] She asked, giving him a treat since he was such a good dog and didn't bark about nothing. She'd give him something, if only because she wanted to positively reinforce his good behavior. She didn't realize that it was a rather awkward question; she didn't talk to people very much, and when she did it was only the necessities. But it was conversation, and she was a little proud of herself for initiating a conversation... sort of. But only a little proud. Mostly she was wondering why she deemed him a worthy companion. Sometimes she surprised herself by how little she actually knew about... well, herself. Normally she just let it go, though; no point in stressing over something she couldn't change.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] ---And I’d rather be here at the back of the line,
Than ahead of the times with you. [/color][/right][/i][/b]
.::Word Count::.622
.::Credited::. Alone by Nick Lachey
.::Notes::. She'll try to be a little more sociable.
.::Thoughts::. Heh heh, he's a dog... get it? Sometimes I worry about myself. =)
.::Wearing::. Here
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Post by SEAN "SPRUCE" WHITEFOOT on Dec 4, 2012 0:42:27 GMT 1
Spruce chuckled at the comment about her hair. For someone who didn't really converse much - from what he'd seen - She was kind of funny. He would've encouraged that behavior by telling her he thought so, but she seemed occupied with her drawing at the moment, sketching a group of giggling girls. Did she always draw people? Did she ever try her hand and sketching animals or just objects? For a few seconds, the Hufflepuff boy envisioned Reigh-Anne in charge of some kind of school newspaper with muggle illustrations written all over it. Of course a majority of the student body wouldn't take too kindly to the lack of moving images, but being muggleborn himself, he didn't mind. It was like a friendly reminder of home.
Minus the, er, content of the newspaper.
"So... what do you do?"
This peculiar question drew a curious look all over Spruce's darkly tanned features, the young man blinking as his stumped brain tried to sincerely come up with an answer. What did he do? Er... He laughed, he had fun, he did homework, he played quidditch, he generally went through life with an easy going pace. He was involved with the Order of the Phoenix. Was that what she wanted to know? Trying to answer her genuinely, Sean smiled. "I'm a chaser for the Hufflepuff team, That's mainly what I do. And I'm good at transfigurations, but I don't really have any drawing ability. I'm really not that good at creative stuff."
He really wasn't. His stick figures were awesome, but that was about it. He was also not the most creative of brains to pick when brain-storming for something like a party. A new quidditch strategy, then he was your man. Spruce decided to ask her a similar question, only worded in a more casual way - well, a way he could understand, because asking her what 'she does' seemed a little weird. Besides living, what could she really say?
"Do you only draw people?"
That was more than he could ever do, without a doubt, but Spruce was curious. Just how far did this girl's talents going? If she could draw architecture that would really be something to marvel at; he was really REALLY bad at measurements, and measurements had something to do with architectural sketches. I think. Sean scratched his jaw, looking thoughtful. It was nice that she was actually asking him questions instead of leaving him to chatter on like a squirrel stuck in a tree. Spruce wanted to continue the conversation, but not push his luck too far.
Word Count: 454
Notes: x3 Nah that totally fits. He IS a dog!
Clothing: Here!
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Post by REIGH-ANNE SIMMONS on Dec 4, 2012 18:55:32 GMT 1
Reigh-Anne.Charlei.Simmons [/b][/color][/center] If you say I’m good for nothing,
At least I’m good for one thing. [/color][/right][/i][/b] ---Reigh-Anne was surprised when she didn't find his laugh entirely appalling and annoying; usually she thought people laughing at her sarcasm was the dumbest thing they had probably ever done in their lives, but there was something pleasant about this tree's laugh. Probably it was because she was fairly certain he understood the humor, or at least he wasn't making fun of her. That was always a nice sound, she supposed.
She scowled as the girls moved out of the hall, throwing off her drawing. She had most of them sketched in, but still... it was a nuisance, having to finish it by memory. It was one thing if she had started from memory, but she hated having to switch from one to the other. Whatever. She add in the few people that were standing in smaller groups or alone in the hall. One person was leaning against a wall reading, one was looking at his watch with increasing frequency, apparently waiting for someone to show up. A few talked as the walked by, and Reigh decided not to draw those; only the people who stayed around got to be included in her masterpiece... or at least scrap art. Whatever this turned into.
Hmm. A quidditch player. This was an unusual occurrence. Reigh was fairly certain that they had a club where they discussed all the strange people at Hogwarts, and she was also fairly certain that she was close to the top of that list. It surprised her, then, that he didn't seem to know how bad it was for your social standing to talk to her.
"If there's something else to draw, I"ll draw it."
[/color] There wasn't any sarcasm in the statement, but that was partially because she was prepping to explain how wrong it was that he was talking to her. She was starting to feel bad for the guy; maybe they kept him out of the exclusive, 'we're better than everyone else' club, and that's why he was talking to her. She should enlighten him. "Listen, bud, I know you're a nice guy and whatever, but you are killing your social status right now. Like, if your social status was a dog, you probably would have run over it a few times and then came back to beat it with a stick by this point."[/color] There. Maybe it would just take a little bit of prodding and he would realize who she was, why she sat alone in a hall full of students drawing people she wouldn't ever talk to. Her pen scratched the sketchpad again as she waited for the realization to hit. She gave faces to people now, added creases to their clothing and lines to their hair. She had no doubt in her mind that he would try to be the good guy and tell her she wasn't really that bad, or that he didn't care what other people thought. Then she would say something nasty and he would realize is mistake and leave her alone. It had been nice having what was probably the longest civil conversation she had probably ever had with another student, but it was time for him to go back to his popular, quidditch-ful life.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote] ---And I’d rather be here at the back of the line,
Than ahead of the times with you. [/color][/right][/i][/b]
.::Word Count::.537
.::Credited::. Alone by Nick Lachey
.::Notes::. Layin out the facts
.::Thoughts::. She's certainly not easy to get along with... and I wonder if this post makes sense. My brain is everywhere right now.
.::Wearing::. Here
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Post by SEAN "SPRUCE" WHITEFOOT on Dec 4, 2012 21:44:26 GMT 1
Killing his social status? How in the name of Merlin was he killing his social status? If by social status she meant his position as 1st Chaser on the Hufflepuff quidditch team, then he was even more confused. Why would talking with her do anything to harm his ability to play quidditch? Sean chuckled, looking semi-confused.
"Are you cursed or something? Is that why you're telling me that?" Sean Whitefoot blinked, smiling at her disarmingly as he patiently awaited her response - before a similar, smaller version of himself showed up carrying a broomstick servicing kit.
"Here, Quimby says thanks," announced Devon Whitefoot, holding out the handsome wooden box for his big brother to take, which he did. Sean flipped open the lid to make mental note that everything was still in it's proper placement and nothing was missing. "No problem, let me know if he ever gets that comet two-sixty off the ground." Sean grinned, and Devon snorted. The Comet Two-Sixty was one of the oldest brooms still on the Hogwarts Grounds, and it had become somewhat of a local thing to try and coax the broom back into flying condition. Apparently it would only actually fly for someone it deemed worthy; it was like a twiggy, well-worn woody version of the Excalibur.
Sean himself hadn't actually gotten around to trying it, but he was content with the broom he had. Something about personal loyalty, you could say. "Oh," said the Hufflepuff boy, as if suddenly struck by a remembrall, "This is Reigh-Anne, Reigh-Anne, this is my brother Devon."
"Hello," responded Devon with a casual wave, the younger Gryffindor clearly having been about to take off. He lingered long enough to hear Reigh-Anne's response before he called back an equally as hurried 'later!' and went to go join his friends. Sean shook his head, glancing back to Reigh-Anne to see whether she'd been bothered by his flighty younger brother, feeling it necessary to speak up anyway.
"Sorry about that. His attention span is even worse than mine." Spruce's brown eyes flashed with humor. That was entirely true. Kayla had the world's longest attention span, Devon Whitefoot had the shortest, and Sean had been left with something somewhere in the middle. The comment about running over his social status was still tumbling around in the forefront of his mind, Sean still in the midst of trying to understand exactly what she was trying to say. Was this about popularity or something? Did she think him some kind of popular jock who just didn't associate with people like her? And by people like her, did she mean artists or loners?
That really didn't matter to him. The world was full of interesting and unique people. If he only stayed within whatever clique the world assigned him to, then he wouldn't be having spontaneous conversations like this one, and he'd miss out on way more than he'd want to.
Word Count: 524
Notes: That's okay, Spruce is particularly difficult to chase off. xD Both a strength and a fault of his.
Clothing: Here!
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