Wooden Bridge

[Lissy Longbottom]

Image Credit: Felixir

A covered bridge of questionable construction that connects the courtyard to the rest of the grounds, this rickety bridge has been damaged and repaired many times over, the most recent major incident being its total collapse during the battle at Hogwarts in 2104. The structure was ultimately brought down by fire and duel, an incident which was not without casualties.

Since then, the wooden bridge has been restored, and is back to its former... glory. Although it still looks like it may fall apart again and send anyone standing on it into the ravine below again, it probably won't. Not so soon, at any rate. Still, any exceptionally loud creaking should be reported to the groundskeeper, just in case.

This long and narrow bridge has a rich history attached to it, and deserves your respect. On your way between the grounds and the castle, why not stop and admire the view for a moment?

[Harron Peasley]

Something about this bridge brought Florrie so much calm. Maybe it was the fact that it was a place one wouldn't expect her to be, and so one where she didn't feel as though the whole of Hogwarts was staring at her. Don't doubt that she loved the attention, of course, but sometimes even stars needed a break.

Maybe it was because, although it looked like it was about to fall apart at any minute, it was actually incredibly strong. Anyone with even a basic interest in psychology could probably tell that the seventh year was the opposite - looked strong and unshakeable, but likely to fall apart at any given moment.

Not that Florrie would admit that to anyone, least of all herself, of course.

Leaning against the railings, she cast her gaze across the grounds.

[sweetpinkpixie]

In attempt to start this, his final term, off on a much better foot than last term he HAD implored Phoebe to go through the burning little ritual they had done more often as kids. Though, who was he fooling? They were still kids in more ways than not despite telling themselves they were older and wiser. So he had written down...a lot of insecurities on those little pieces of parchment and held on to each until the flame practically licked his fingertips and then he released them into the air to dissipate into smoke. Some felt like they had been entirely lifted from his shoulders, but others were...just a lot harder to let go of.

...speaking of...

Pushing the concerning rumors flying around the corridors aside for the moment, he swung his camera forward and stood back a bit near the entrance of the bridge. The dreary fog that swirled its misty tendrils about the rickety bridge accentuated her golden hair (though he missed her brunette locks) and created a truly captivating and ethereal contrast that would look amazing in black and white.

...so...click click click went the camera... and if the shutter's noise hadn't been enough to indicate another's presence, then the loud winding noise as he brushed his thumb over the counter might do it.

[Harron Peasley]

Lost in her own thoughts (predominantly about what her graduated or just plain drop out left the building friends and what they might be doing now), Florrie wouldn't have noticed if Cooper had just walked on by. She would have been annoyed if she found out that he did that later, though, especially because she was under the impression that everything was good between them.

Not that she'd ever address what had happened, because addressing things was too much for her brain to handle, and so she just went back to behaving normally around people. Of course the normalcy around Cooper had always had a habit of breaking down her guard a little, and so returning to that was probably not going to happen for some time.

Florrie turned when she heard the shutter noise stopped - to have turned when it started would be to disrupt whatever photograph the Ravenclaw was taking, and she didn't want some garish snarl or lipgloss-stuck hair captured (and she was, of course, sure that the photo was of her). Waving slightly, she made her way towards Cooper, jokingly (or not) striking a pose when she was near enough for a conversation.

[sweetpinkpixie]

After a few thorough conversations with those he felt most close knit with, the Hufflepuff before him once being among those, he was beginning to...see things he may not have before. Namely in that the girl he had called Flora was a different one than presented other places, and he wasn't sure what to make of that exactly ... but the more he dwelled on it, the more he felt an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. She had not been the only person to march out on him last term, and anyone in the library that one day knew who one of the other people to flee from his emotional stinted conversations was. But, in almost every other case there had been follow up conversations.

Save for one.

This...was becoming a pattern.

And he had never known it possible to go down the drain of self doubt for being called 'too great' and 'wonderful' ... but if there was anyone who could accomplish that, it was this knucklehead of a Ravenclaw.

It would probably also appall her to know how many imperfect photographs he had of her - lip-gloss captured wisps of hair and all. Many times there were his favorite photos of people...because they were the moments where absolutely no effort was being put in. There was no posing. No trying to be anything but the movement of the moment. Natural, authentic, and real.

So when she started striking poses, he simply shook his head and finished winding the camera with a deep boyish chuckle. "Sorry to say...this roll finished so I didn't capture any of that just now...but the ones I did capture could benefit from some of your calligraphy when I make prints." Gaze lingering a moment, he looked down to pop the back off the two century and a half old camera and carefully removed the film to return to its canister which was then plopped into his bag and a new roll removed. "Knut for your thoughts?" he asked while carefully unrolling just a bit of the film to insert in and start off a new roll. "At least it seemed like you were doing a lot more than just admiring the misty view from up here."

[Harron Peasley]

Quote:

Originally Posted by sweetpinkpixie

After a few thorough conversations with those he felt most close knit with, the Hufflepuff before him once being among those, he was beginning to...see things he may not have before. Namely in that the girl he had called Flora was a different one than presented other places, and he wasn't sure what to make of that exactly ... but the more he dwelled on it, the more he felt an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. She had not been the only person to march out on him last term, and anyone in the library that one day knew who one of the other people to flee from his emotional stinted conversations was. But, in almost every other case there had been follow up conversations.

Save for one.

This...was becoming a pattern.

And he had never known it possible to go down the drain of self doubt for being called 'too great' and 'wonderful' ... but if there was anyone who could accomplish that, it was this knucklehead of a Ravenclaw.

It would probably also appall her to know how many imperfect photographs he had of her - lip-gloss captured wisps of hair and all. Many times there were his favorite photos of people...because they were the moments where absolutely no effort was being put in. There was no posing. No trying to be anything but the movement of the moment. Natural, authentic, and real.

So when she started striking poses, he simply shook his head and finished winding the camera with a deep boyish chuckle. "Sorry to say...this roll finished so I didn't capture any of that just now...but the ones I did capture could benefit from some of your calligraphy when I make prints." Gaze lingering a moment, he looked down to pop the back off the two century and a half old camera and carefully removed the film to return to its canister which was then plopped into his bag and a new roll removed. "Knut for your thoughts?" he asked while carefully unrolling just a bit of the film to insert in and start off a new roll. "At least it seemed like you were doing a lot more than just admiring the misty view from up here."

Horrified, embarrassed, insecure. Just a few things she would feel if she saw the outtakes of his photographs, the imperfect ones he'd captured of her. But Florrie was happy to pretend that such things didn't exist, because they didn't fit with the persona or the life she was projecting (and trying to live in, but that was something different entirely).

Florrie pouted, playful and dramatic, when Cooper told her that none of her poses had been captured. "Shame, I was thinking of sending them in to be the next face of O-Star, or TW," she joked. As for the calligraphy... "Sure," she added, casting her gaze back out across the grounds and away from his face. It wasn't something she'd been doing much of, recently, having been unable to keep her focus on it. It also wasn't something that a lot of people knew she enjoyed doing, and for some reason his mentioning it made her feel out of place.

Shaking off the feeling, she shrugged and when she turned back to face him, watching him sort his camera out, she was smiling - though it was somewhat wistfully. "Just wondering what everyone who's left is doing right now," Florrie explained. "It seems weird, that so many people have gone."

[sweetpinkpixie]

Yes, he was becoming more and more aware of this double life (so to speak) that she was trying to live. Or perhaps double life wasn't the right way to think of it, because both were still Florrie just...she was trapped in a limbo between who she is, who she wants to be, and who she should be. A cliché quote, maybe, but he hadn't really understood it until he had meet and experience Florence Nicolette Margot Charbonneau.

Yearbook privilege. Knowing names for the sake of layout and photography identification. He had it memorized.

He mentally seized up at the playful banter, recalled all too well when Cecelia had asked him to do some headshots for her and how he had mildly panicked with that. He felt bad about it, especially looking back because his response had been completely unnecessary. The pressure for perfection had lifted a bit this summer the more and more he leaned into this feeling he had when he held a camera. It had been there all along, but he hadn't paid attention to it until (as much as he was embarrassed to say) validation that the Witch Weekly article provided. Which was a really long and roundabout way to come to the more casual response he offered her. "My work isn't very fit for commercial marketing anyway," he chuckled lightly. "Poses and the like...I mean..." And he was going to stop himself before he started rambling on too much about the differences between the various photography techniques. He felt a certain tension rise when she looked, felt, less than enthusiastic about the offer to combine their art styles together. He had really liked the look of her calligraphy on his black and white photography and it felt like a very long time since they had combined....but maybe it had to be a little longer still.

By the time she turned back, he had slinked up to her side and was leaning against the wood with a soft concerned smile on his slightly scruffy features. "Feels natural to me, I suppose, and that'll be us soon enough and then there will be people here thinking the same things," he smiled a little more and swayed slightly to give her a nudge. He was not nearly as affected by the absence of people as others seemed to be. Maybe because he had been left behind for the first few years of schooling and so he already knew what it was like to press on in their absence. He missed Phoebe and Teddy most of all, his older cousins who had been like an older brother and sister to him, but he did not feel a pining. "It's only temporary." A lot of things were. Cooper leaned his forearms entirely against the railing, himself looking out wistfully into the mist and the silhouettes of the trees in the distance. "And I...really don't want to waste what time I've got left here."

[Harron Peasley]

Quote:

Originally Posted by sweetpinkpixie

Yes, he was becoming more and more aware of this double life (so to speak) that she was trying to live. Or perhaps double life wasn't the right way to think of it, because both were still Florrie just...she was trapped in a limbo between who she is, who she wants to be, and who she should be. A cliché quote, maybe, but he hadn't really understood it until he had meet and experience Florence Nicolette Margot Charbonneau.

Yearbook privilege. Knowing names for the sake of layout and photography identification. He had it memorized.

He mentally seized up at the playful banter, recalled all too well when Cecelia had asked him to do some headshots for her and how he had mildly panicked with that. He felt bad about it, especially looking back because his response had been completely unnecessary. The pressure for perfection had lifted a bit this summer the more and more he leaned into this feeling he had when he held a camera. It had been there all along, but he hadn't paid attention to it until (as much as he was embarrassed to say) validation that the Witch Weekly article provided. Which was a really long and roundabout way to come to the more casual response he offered her. "My work isn't very fit for commercial marketing anyway," he chuckled lightly. "Poses and the like...I mean..." And he was going to stop himself before he started rambling on too much about the differences between the various photography techniques. He felt a certain tension rise when she looked, felt, less than enthusiastic about the offer to combine their art styles together. He had really liked the look of her calligraphy on his black and white photography and it felt like a very long time since they had combined....but maybe it had to be a little longer still.

By the time she turned back, he had slinked up to her side and was leaning against the wood with a soft concerned smile on his slightly scruffy features. "Feels natural to me, I suppose, and that'll be us soon enough and then there will be people here thinking the same things," he smiled a little more and swayed slightly to give her a nudge. He was not nearly as affected by the absence of people as others seemed to be. Maybe because he had been left behind for the first few years of schooling and so he already knew what it was like to press on in their absence. He missed Phoebe and Teddy most of all, his older cousins who had been like an older brother and sister to him, but he did not feel a pining. "It's only temporary." A lot of things were. Cooper leaned his forearms entirely against the railing, himself looking out wistfully into the mist and the silhouettes of the trees in the distance. "And I...really don't want to waste what time I've got left here."

"I was joking, Cooper," Florrie managed softly, a small and slightly embarrassed smile crossing her face. "Though, you're photos are so beautiful I'm sure any brand would be lucky to work with you." She'd kept that copy of Witch Weekly, and though she might not tell him, Florrie felt extremely proud of what he'd achieved. At one point, she'd felt extremely lucky to count Cooper as one of her closes friends, too - but now she got an irksome feeling that she was a negative in his life. A feeling she was trying to ignore by behaving around him like she did around everyone else.

She knew that if he asked again, she would of course work on his photos, and therefore she was torn between him wanting to ask and give her both an outlet for her minor creativity and an opportunity to spend more time with him, and wanting him to forget about it entirely and let her notion of calligraphy fade away completely.

He was right, after all - Florrie was in limbo with who she was, and Cooper seemed to bring all of it to the forefront.

"I know what you mean," she agreed, leaning into his nudge ever so slightly. "I guess I'm also thinking about what I'll be doing, this time next year." She wasn't like most of the people in her year, with a clear plan and back up and goals and dreams. She supposed Cooper had plenty of them, and was likely to succeed in anything he tried. The thought that she was the only one who wouldn't deflated her a little. "So what are you going to do with this time, then? In order not to waste it?" she asked curiously, turning to face him fully.

[sweetpinkpixie]

Was it ironic that that made it even more noticeable? Because she had been quite different around him, so the shift was even more irksome at times. Though not quite as irksome as it had been to see her after the conversation she had run out on him with. Though her response and Mamie's not-so-subtle tip toeing around a topic, a truth, had solidified a few assumptions for him.

So, mostly, he was embarrassed for his feelings.

"I know," he smiled back with the faintest of chuckles. "I was being overly practical and the Ravenclaw buzzkill." A role he had effortlessly walked into, so it seemed. "It is...a really different sort of technique though...product photography and commercial photography. I only got a small taste of it over the summer while I interned with Seeker Weekly...helped with a couple of ads for some quidditch gear. Some companies do lean into more of a lifestyle photography look...which is something I am good at. There is overlap but..." he trailed off, ears reddening a bit and it spreading to his cheeks. "...but I should just can it and accept the compliment." Shakes his head, chuckling to himself for a couple beats before clicking his tongue as a means of gently chastising himself. "Thanks...Flor--rie." he smiled again and gave her the gentlest of nudges. "My offer still stands though...and I've got plenty of prints that if ink smears or you don't like word choice or whatever may come up that there are extras." He seriously made about five copies of each while in the darkroom...sometimes adjusting the enlarger and amount of light used during the burn process.

"And what is it you think you'll be doing?" he asked with genuine curiosity. He...honestly wasn't sure what it was he would be doing. Though at least he would, hopefully, be working for either Derfael or Monsieur Benoit fulltime. He was trying this new approach to the term thing that did not have his head do deep in logistics and compensating for future events that may or may not happen. You know, generally trying not to overthink. His fingers coiled around the railing firmly, enough so that he could lean back on his heels with his whole body following so he sort of made a v shape with the wooden wall and his own elongated form. "Live more in the moment, seize more opportunities, say 'yes' more often." Which were all abstract concepts when you thought about them, save for the 'say yes' more often.

[Lottiepot]

Ever since he was a young child, Arlo had been homeschooled by his parents. Well, by one parent as his father had hardly ever been home to do any of the schooling being a journalist, travelling the world and interacting with the rich and famous. It was ironic as Arlo had barely ever travelled outside of Britain himself. He and his mother had made big plans about travelling around Europe one summer whilst his dad was busy ‘working’, taking in all the sights whether they be muggle or part of the Wizarding world. Those plans were unfortunately put off when Arlo lost his mum at only 11 years old. It was supposed to be the start of his first year at school, one of the most exciting times of a young wizards life and yet the whole year was tinged with the sadness of his beloved mums passing. Instead of attending school, Arlo stayed home with his grandparents who continued his education whilst his dad continued his career.

Arlo didn’t resent his dad as such, he understood that work was important and that his work meant that they had quite a comfortable upbringing. They lived in a large house in the Berkshire countryside with a beautiful view. Arlo was spoilt with the latest gifts on his birthday and Christmas and whenever his dad came home he’d usually bring him a present from wherever he had visited. But he never had with his dad the same sort of relationship he had developed with his mum. They weren’t particularly close, his dad didn’t really know much about him because he was hardly ever around to get closer. It wasn’t until Arlo turned thirteen, hormones had started to kick in and the usually reserved and quiet Arlo started to ‘act up’. Honestly, it was more of a cry for attention than anything. His grandparents were getting a little too old to be wrangling a stressy brooding teenage boy who didn’t particularly want to sit down and listen to an old lady ramble on about arithmancy and divination. So off he was shipped to school 15 days before his fourteenth birthday and he wasn’t particularly pleased about it.

No friends. No siblings.

That afternoon, fed up with sitting in the common room by himself and pretending to do his homework, Arlo took a stroll out into the grounds to breath in the fresh air. He quite liked the grounds of the castle, it was open and despite the mountains and lakes that were clearly not in Berkshire it felt more like home. Compared to the castle itself which felt stuffy and traditional and quite frankly a little creepy.

He stood in the middle of the wooden bridge, leaning against the wooden rail and looking out across the view.

[PhoenixRising]

Quote:

Originally Posted by Lottiepot

Ever since he was a young child, Arlo had been homeschooled by his parents. Well, by one parent as his father had hardly ever been home to do any of the schooling being a journalist, travelling the world and interacting with the rich and famous. It was ironic as Arlo had barely ever travelled outside of Britain himself. He and his mother had made big plans about travelling around Europe one summer whilst his dad was busy ‘working’, taking in all the sights whether they be muggle or part of the Wizarding world. Those plans were unfortunately put off when Arlo lost his mum at only 11 years old. It was supposed to be the start of his first year at school, one of the most exciting times of a young wizards life and yet the whole year was tinged with the sadness of his beloved mums passing. Instead of attending school, Arlo stayed home with his grandparents who continued his education whilst his dad continued his career.

Arlo didn’t resent his dad as such, he understood that work was important and that his work meant that they had quite a comfortable upbringing. They lived in a large house in the Berkshire countryside with a beautiful view. Arlo was spoilt with the latest gifts on his birthday and Christmas and whenever his dad came home he’d usually bring him a present from wherever he had visited. But he never had with his dad the same sort of relationship he had developed with his mum. They weren’t particularly close, his dad didn’t really know much about him because he was hardly ever around to get closer. It wasn’t until Arlo turned thirteen, hormones had started to kick in and the usually reserved and quiet Arlo started to ‘act up’. Honestly, it was more of a cry for attention than anything. His grandparents were getting a little too old to be wrangling a stressy brooding teenage boy who didn’t particularly want to sit down and listen to an old lady ramble on about arithmancy and divination. So off he was shipped to school 15 days before his fourteenth birthday and he wasn’t particularly pleased about it.

No friends. No siblings.

That afternoon, fed up with sitting in the common room by himself and pretending to do his homework, Arlo took a stroll out into the grounds to breath in the fresh air. He quite liked the grounds of the castle, it was open and despite the mountains and lakes that were clearly not in Berkshire it felt more like home. Compared to the castle itself which felt stuffy and traditional and quite frankly a little creepy.

He stood in the middle of the wooden bridge, leaning against the wooden rail and looking out across the view.

The wooden bridge wasn't a particular place that Apollo wanted to spend much time, tinged with sadness of what happened here when he was only a first year. Of course he hadn't been out here, secured in the safety net of the castle walls. But he knew some older (now graduated) peers who had stood up to fight against the neo alliance. Heck, his own mother was here. She could have been Professor Kitridge or any of the number of others who lost their lives here. So yea, the wooden bridge wasn't a place that he wanted to spend much time as the relevance of the battle was only just starting to make sense in his fourteen year old brain.

He hadn't expected to find many people here, given the treacherous state of it, let along a solemn looking boy staring out into the mountainous views.

"Amazing what a beautiful place we get to study in, isn't it?" He said casually, not willing to broach the subject of what happened here only three short years ago. He doubted the kid would bring it up either. Hopefully. Unwritten code to not bring up the history. "You a first year?" The kid had that 'new look', but also kind of maybe looked older than a first year?? So maybe he just didn't get out much.

[Lottiepot]

SPOILER!!: Apollo

Quote:

Originally Posted by PhoenixRising

The wooden bridge wasn't a particular place that Apollo wanted to spend much time, tinged with sadness of what happened here when he was only a first year. Of course he hadn't been out here, secured in the safety net of the castle walls. But he knew some older (now graduated) peers who had stood up to fight against the neo alliance. Heck, his own mother was here. She could have been Professor Kitridge or any of the number of others who lost their lives here. So yea, the wooden bridge wasn't a place that he wanted to spend much time as the relevance of the battle was only just starting to make sense in his fourteen year old brain.

He hadn't expected to find many people here, given the treacherous state of it, let along a solemn looking boy staring out into the mountainous views.

"Amazing what a beautiful place we get to study in, isn't it?" He said casually, not willing to broach the subject of what happened here only three short years ago. He doubted the kid would bring it up either. Hopefully. Unwritten code to not bring up the history. "You a first year?" The kid had that 'new look', but also kind of maybe looked older than a first year?? So maybe he just didn't get out much.

Arlo’s enjoyment of the view and the fresh air didn’t last for long when a voice came from somewhere behind him. Initially he figured it was directed to someone else but when no reply came, the fourteen year old turned his head to the side to see a similar aged boy standing near him. He’d seen him around before he was sure but didn’t know him well enough to know his name. The conversation starter seemed a little forced and proper for his liking but he guessed that was how people conversed around here. Did they all stop and talk to each other about the weather like the adults did? Boring. “Yeah it’s cool.” It was nothing like the muggle schools he’d seen before made of concrete and stuck in the past. At least this one had grounds and lakes and mountains and despite the ancient looking interior which obviously hadn’t been changed in centuries, there was something about it which made it feel homely.

Did he look like an eleven year old kid? Merlin, he hoped not! He was a whole fourteen years old, a proper teenager not some bright eyed, bushy tailed little kid with all their hopes and dreams ahead of them. No, Arlo had gone grown out of that stage after his mum passed away and was now just a brooding teenager who resented the fact that he had been dumped into a school where he knew no one. Being a teenager was hard, okay?! Making friends when you’re young and you have literally one thing in common and you’re instantly best friends is the easiest thing ever. But when you’re older and everyone else around you is also grumpy and hormonal it gets a lot harder to socialise.

Still, this kid had actually bothered to stop and talk to him so it would be rude to completely ignore him wouldn’t it? And despite the solemn look on his face, the lack of siblings and childhood friends and the fact that he had already had somewhat of a traumatic childhood, Arlo was actually a fairly friendly guy. “Not a first year, no.” he answered. Clearly he was older than that. “I’m a third year but this is my first year at Hogwarts”

[PhoenixRising]

Quote:

Originally Posted by Lottiepot

Arlo’s enjoyment of the view and the fresh air didn’t last for long when a voice came from somewhere behind him. Initially he figured it was directed to someone else but when no reply came, the fourteen year old turned his head to the side to see a similar aged boy standing near him. He’d seen him around before he was sure but didn’t know him well enough to know his name. The conversation starter seemed a little forced and proper for his liking but he guessed that was how people conversed around here. Did they all stop and talk to each other about the weather like the adults did? Boring. “Yeah it’s cool.” It was nothing like the muggle schools he’d seen before made of concrete and stuck in the past. At least this one had grounds and lakes and mountains and despite the ancient looking interior which obviously hadn’t been changed in centuries, there was something about it which made it feel homely.

Did he look like an eleven year old kid? Merlin, he hoped not! He was a whole fourteen years old, a proper teenager not some bright eyed, bushy tailed little kid with all their hopes and dreams ahead of them. No, Arlo had gone grown out of that stage after his mum passed away and was now just a brooding teenager who resented the fact that he had been dumped into a school where he knew no one. Being a teenager was hard, okay?! Making friends when you’re young and you have literally one thing in common and you’re instantly best friends is the easiest thing ever. But when you’re older and everyone else around you is also grumpy and hormonal it gets a lot harder to socialise.

Still, this kid had actually bothered to stop and talk to him so it would be rude to completely ignore him wouldn’t it? And despite the solemn look on his face, the lack of siblings and childhood friends and the fact that he had already had somewhat of a traumatic childhood, Arlo was actually a fairly friendly guy. “Not a first year, no.” he answered. Clearly he was older than that. “I’m a third year but this is my first year at Hogwarts”

It was actually strange how much more outgoing Hogwarts was making him? Maybe it was the taste of stardom he had two years ago in the drama club, which hadn't proved to get him any closer to being popular, but can't say he didn't try and he still had 3.5 years more to achieve the goal of recognition. Also he wasn't typically one to talk about the scenery but also diving into his own internal struggles seemed far too personal to bombard a complete stranger with. Maybe after a few encounters with the lad. He nodded though, since it seemed the boy didn't want to chat much about the weather.

To be honest, no? But the kid was unfamiliar to Apollo and so why not venture a guess to try and be friendly. Also, he could 100000% relate to the brooding teenager thing, had the boy voiced those concerns and it was the worst !!! It was actually kind of nice to be talking with a boy for once too, because Merlin, girls were confusing. "Ah, where'd you transfer from? Beauxbatons?" It was the only wizarding school that Apollo seemed to remember, despite only JUST having a history of magic lesson on wizarding schools. He also knew of Luxembourg Quidditch Academy from his Great Uncle Aaron, but since the kid was only a third year, it was doubtful it was that one. "I'm Apollo. Fourth year. How you getting along here? Finding your way okay?" The castle could be a daunting place he knew, hormones aside.

[Lottiepot]

SPOILER!!: Apollo

Quote:

Originally Posted by PhoenixRising

It was actually strange how much more outgoing Hogwarts was making him? Maybe it was the taste of stardom he had two years ago in the drama club, which hadn't proved to get him any closer to being popular, but can't say he didn't try and he still had 3.5 years more to achieve the goal of recognition. Also he wasn't typically one to talk about the scenery but also diving into his own internal struggles seemed far too personal to bombard a complete stranger with. Maybe after a few encounters with the lad. He nodded though, since it seemed the boy didn't want to chat much about the weather.

To be honest, no? But the kid was unfamiliar to Apollo and so why not venture a guess to try and be friendly. Also, he could 100000% relate to the brooding teenager thing, had the boy voiced those concerns and it was the worst !!! It was actually kind of nice to be talking with a boy for once too, because Merlin, girls were confusing. "Ah, where'd you transfer from? Beauxbatons?" It was the only wizarding school that Apollo seemed to remember, despite only JUST having a history of magic lesson on wizarding schools. He also knew of Luxembourg Quidditch Academy from his Great Uncle Aaron, but since the kid was only a third year, it was doubtful it was that one. "I'm Apollo. Fourth year. How you getting along here? Finding your way okay?" The castle could be a daunting place he knew, hormones aside.

Arlo was glad he hadn’t grown up in one of those pure-blood obsessed families and despite coming from a long line of witches and wizards, he was equally comfortable in the muggle world as he was in the Wizarding world. Coupled with the fact he wasn’t well travelled, he knew much more about the local Muggle schools in the area then he did about the other Wizarding schools. He did however know that Beauxbatons was that French school who seemed all prim and proper and flounced around with an air of arrogance behind them. Okay maybe not arrogance, perhaps it was confidence. You know those people who wherever they go a trail of people seemed to follow them around because they have that kind of aura. That’s what he imagined Beauxbatons pupils to be like and that he was not. “Nah, I was homeschooled by my grandparents until this summer.” No that didn’t mean he was dumb and naive he had been sorted into Ravenclaw after all. His grandparents were good teachers who knew a lot but they were getting pretty old and boring and Arlo couldn’t bear to sit through another hour of his man going on about numbers and their meanings. “I think they got a bit fed up of me” he chuckled. That was half the story anyway.

Despite appearing brooding and perhaps a little grumpy, Arlo wasn’t totally against having a friendly conversation which someone his own age. The castle could be a lonely place without someone he could call a friend.. or maybe just an acquaintance. “I’m Arlo. It’s nice to meet you” he smiled. “It’s okay. I guess it’ll take some getting used to. Makes a big change from lessons in your living room.” Getting lost was the least of his problems.

[PhoenixRising]

Quote:

Originally Posted by Lottiepot

Arlo was glad he hadn’t grown up in one of those pure-blood obsessed families and despite coming from a long line of witches and wizards, he was equally comfortable in the muggle world as he was in the Wizarding world. Coupled with the fact he wasn’t well travelled, he knew much more about the local Muggle schools in the area then he did about the other Wizarding schools. He did however know that Beauxbatons was that French school who seemed all prim and proper and flounced around with an air of arrogance behind them. Okay maybe not arrogance, perhaps it was confidence. You know those people who wherever they go a trail of people seemed to follow them around because they have that kind of aura. That’s what he imagined Beauxbatons pupils to be like and that he was not. “Nah, I was homeschooled by my grandparents until this summer.” No that didn’t mean he was dumb and naive he had been sorted into Ravenclaw after all. His grandparents were good teachers who knew a lot but they were getting pretty old and boring and Arlo couldn’t bear to sit through another hour of his man going on about numbers and their meanings. “I think they got a bit fed up of me” he chuckled. That was half the story anyway.

Despite appearing brooding and perhaps a little grumpy, Arlo wasn’t totally against having a friendly conversation which someone his own age. The castle could be a lonely place without someone he could call a friend.. or maybe just an acquaintance. “I’m Arlo. It’s nice to meet you” he smiled. “It’s okay. I guess it’ll take some getting used to. Makes a big change from lessons in your living room.” Getting lost was the least of his problems.

Apollo's eyes widened as he explained he didn't transfer from any school but rather .... "Wait... Shut up! So you're telling me, like you've never actually been to a real school before??" The gryffindor stared in disbelief. Well that explained his unfamiliar to him and the fact that well, he was alone. Though Apollo doubted it would be for long; everyone always seemed to be wildly more popular than him and leave him in the dust - dusk? Eh, whatever. "Fed up of you? How so?" he frowned, waiting for a better explanation, because ugh ... if he got lessons with Grandma Mia and Grandpa Tancred, it would be like a dreammmmmmm !!!


"Nice to meet you, Arlo. I don't think ... I actually know that many Ravenclaws. Except. Uh... Lisa ... Lisa Nam. She's in your year, so perhaps you've met her?" She was super outgoing, so it would be hard to miss her. He nodded. "Although being able to go to lessons in your pajamas would be kind of cool, no?" These shoes could be so uncomfortable sometimes.