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sweetpinkpixie · 04-09-2026, 02:55 AM

Nyle glanced up at the greeting, blinking once like he'd been pulled back from somewhere several layers deep in thought. Recognition followed quickly, and with it a small smile.

"Diego—hi," he returned, voice warm but still a touch distracted. His attention flicked briefly to the scroll in the Gryffindor’s hands before back to his own. "…struggling with yours too?" he inquired timidly.

He huffed a quiet breath through his nose, glancing down at his parchment again. "I think I could rattle off facts about xeranthemum for a solid three hours before I manage to sort through this properly," he admitted. And, because he was who he was, he didn't stop there. "They're everlastings—used in dried arrangements because they keep their shape and color long after being cut. Symbolically tied to immortality, or remembrance, depending on who you ask. They thrive in poor soil, actually. Too much richness and they don't do nearly as well. Native to fairly arid regions, which I suppose is rather fitting considering their other association with everlasting love and such things thriving with space." A small pause while he ruffled his fingers through his hair. "Also, they close slightly at night, which is—" he caught himself, blinking. "—not relevant. At all. To riddles and―"

Shutting up now. Never mind.

His gaze drifted then, not wanting to catch a glimpse of what was likely annoyance across the Gryffindor's features ― or the glazed over look of someone who had tuned Nyle out several thoughts ago ― and caught on movement across the hall.

Light, laughter, motion. Aurora dance and ―

Something in his chest shifted. Like watching a flower turn instinctively toward the sun and realizing, faintly, that it hadn't been meant for your patch of ground because there was too much shade.

He could cut-in and go ask. The thought arrived simply enough. That was how these things worked, wasn't it? You asked, and then you danced, and that was that. Except—

His gaze dropped briefly to his own feet, like they might already be guilty of the crime. Long, awkward things, more used to pacing greenhouse rows or bracing against uneven ground than keeping time to music. He shifted his weight, imagining it: one misstep, then another, stepping on her toes, throwing off her rhythm. Like a tall plant grown too quickly, all height and no balance, bending the wrong way in a careful arrangement.

She wouldn't say anything, of course. She'd smile, adjust, make it seem effortless. She always did.

She looked… right, there. Like sunlight landing exactly where it meant to without the need of correcting or compensating for.

He should go ask. He knew that. If he waited, he'd miss his chance entirely. Story of his life, really. Always arriving just a moment too late, orbiting rather than stepping in, watching instead of—

He looked away, attention snapping back to the riddle in his hands so he could anchor himself there and wallow in something else.

"…anyway," he said, a touch quieter, "Feels like it should be obvious, doesn't it? I may be sleeping in the corridor if I had to answer one of these every time I needed to get into my common room."

Somewhere, Iris was gloating. Surely.

04-09-2026, 02:55 AM	#4 (permalink)
sweetpinkpixie SSRPG Admin Gladrags Mod Quibbler Mod Minister for Magic Alley Proprietor Sea Serpent Join Date: Aug 2010 Location: The Paths Posts: 41,492 Hogwarts RPG Name: Professor Cox Ravenclaw Graduated Hogwarts RPG Name: CJ Miller Gryffindor Fourth Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Nyle Harden Hufflepuff Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Iris Harden Ravenclaw Seventh Year Hogwarts RPG Name: Jae-hyuk Anouilh Slytherin Seventh Year Ministry Department Head: Charles Hollingberry Minister's Office Ministry Department Head: Airey Flamsteed Mysteries Diagon Alley Proprietor: Victor García Massey Ollivanders x12 x12	astronomizzle ♧ gryffinDORK \| & the rest is drag ♣ #badluckDerf Nyle glanced up at the greeting, blinking once like he'd been pulled back from somewhere several layers deep in thought. Recognition followed quickly, and with it a small smile. "Diego—hi," he returned, voice warm but still a touch distracted. His attention flicked briefly to the scroll in the Gryffindor’s hands before back to his own. "…struggling with yours too?" he inquired timidly. He huffed a quiet breath through his nose, glancing down at his parchment again. "I think I could rattle off facts about xeranthemum for a solid three hours before I manage to sort through this properly," he admitted. And, because he was who he was, he didn't stop there. "They're everlastings—used in dried arrangements because they keep their shape and color long after being cut. Symbolically tied to immortality, or remembrance, depending on who you ask. They thrive in poor soil, actually. Too much richness and they don't do nearly as well. Native to fairly arid regions, which I suppose is rather fitting considering their other association with everlasting love and such things thriving with space." A small pause while he ruffled his fingers through his hair. "Also, they close slightly at night, which is—" he caught himself, blinking. "—not relevant. At all. To riddles and―" Shutting up now. Never mind. His gaze drifted then, not wanting to catch a glimpse of what was likely annoyance across the Gryffindor's features ― or the glazed over look of someone who had tuned Nyle out several thoughts ago ― and caught on movement across the hall. Light, laughter, motion. Aurora dance and ― Something in his chest shifted. Like watching a flower turn instinctively toward the sun and realizing, faintly, that it hadn't been meant for your patch of ground because there was too much shade. He could cut-in and go ask. The thought arrived simply enough. That was how these things worked, wasn't it? You asked, and then you danced, and that was that. Except— His gaze dropped briefly to his own feet, like they might already be guilty of the crime. Long, awkward things, more used to pacing greenhouse rows or bracing against uneven ground than keeping time to music. He shifted his weight, imagining it: one misstep, then another, stepping on her toes, throwing off her rhythm. Like a tall plant grown too quickly, all height and no balance, bending the wrong way in a careful arrangement. She wouldn't say anything, of course. She'd smile, adjust, make it seem effortless. She always did. She looked… right, there. Like sunlight landing exactly where it meant to without the need of correcting or compensating for. He should go ask. He knew that. If he waited, he'd miss his chance entirely. Story of his life, really. Always arriving just a moment too late, orbiting rather than stepping in, watching instead of— He looked away, attention snapping back to the riddle in his hands so he could anchor himself there and wallow in something else. "…anyway," he said, a touch quieter, "Feels like it should be obvious, doesn't it? I may be sleeping in the corridor if I had to answer one of these every time I needed to get into my common room." Somewhere, Iris was gloating. Surely. __________________ We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back......................................... But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass..................................... The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like