Ever since Evan's spider bite had been cured, he had needed to learn to use his leg again. This ordeal, although uncomfortable, had proven almost a relief to him. He'd spent so much time in the infirmary, where no one expected much from him and he could (pretend to) read his class notes at his own pace. Until the hard part came and Madam Pomfrey forced him onto his feet, but even then at least he didn't have to go to class.
Now, he had none of those advantages. He was well enough to go back to classes and had to hobble around with a cane. Like an old man. The cane even looked like an old man's, all wooden and knobbly. This put him in a foul mood that made him even less interested in socialising.
As he hobbled back from an afternoon check-up with Madam Pomfrey (which he had complained the wole way through), he peeked into the Great Hall. The noise and bustle sliced into his brain and he decided he wasn't hungry, moving on in the direction of the dungeons.
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- Current Mood
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cranky
Regulus walked down the hallways as quickly and quietly as he could. He wasn't normally one to be out after hours, but he was famished. He had been up studying the night before and had subsequently taken a nap after classes, managing to sleep straight through dinner. His usual cookie reserve gone, Regulus was forced to sneak down to the kitchens for something to eat.
He turned a corner and walked over to the painting, tickled the pear and stepped into the kitchen. Unfortunately, it seemed that someone else had beaten him there. He stopped where he was as the other student turned to see who had interrupted their meal.
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- Current Mood
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hungry
Evan didn't know where he was going. He had been in his dorm, and then he had left. Beyond that, all he knew was that the scenery in the halls of of the dungeons paled in comparison to his reflection in the lovely little mirror he was never without. His feet remembered turning some corners and walking up some stairs, but even they were a little distracted, encased in new blue leather shoes.
Big blue-grey eyes stared into themselves, then down down down the curve of his nose, then - oh! - what beautiful lips he had! If only he could kiss them, for real, without the cold, flat glass of reality pushing up against his face!
Suddenly - smash! The mirror collided with a stone pillar (one of the many things Evan had failed to see) and turned into a cracked mess. He didn't have to stare at the distorted version of his face for long before letting out a horrified scream.
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- Current Mood
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distressed
Who: Evelyn and whoever is interested
When: After the last class of the day
Where: On the way to great hall
Why: Because even the skinny and beautiful have to eat...a little...or look like it anyway *shrugs*
Evelyn felt the seconds go by agonizingly slow, waiting for her last and most hated class, muggle studies, to end. What did she care, they should all be locked up and enslaved or something. She always thought elves were too short for the job anyway. Besides what fun is it to enslave a race who's okay with it. Muggles would be more fun to break and torture. With this last thought, the bell rang, and Evelyn made to exit with a huge and beautiful smile on her face.
Deciding to grab a bite before conning some nerdling Ravenclaw to do her work, Evelyn made her way to the Great Hall. As she proceed to the hall, She was so deep in thought about torturing muggles and mudbloods that she didn't notice someone running around the corner, thusly bumping in her, almost knocking her down, "Why I never....how dare you...you...you..." She looked up to see who the offending party was and noticed it to be...
Who: Remus and whomever
Where: Hogwarts Library
When: Jan. 29 around 7 in the evening
Remus, in his quest for further isolation from the whole of Gryffindor, settled in the library amongst some stacks located in the furthest reaches of the Transfiguration section. He figured while he was there, he might as well get working on that foot and a half due to McGonagall on Friday. He found his necessary books and spread out on the table and readied his quill. He had been feeling a bit down as of late and he wasn't entirely sure of the cause. He blew a piece of hair away from his face and started to write, focused only on his paper and the thoughts swimming around in his brain.
contemplative
aggravated