Post by eleanormuriel on May 27, 2011 2:10:14 GMT
[Hope this works--she didn't have to bump into Katerina, maybe Katerina just sees the run in, or is still sitting at the table, or standing outside the Great Hall, etc... Let me know if you need me to change it! ^^]
With little exception, it seemed to be the expectation that faculty attend meals, especially dinner. Promoting house and school unity was a key factor in staff role modeling, and what better way to do that than to join together at the same table over bread and butter? For the most part, Ellie didn’t mind so much. She listened poignantly, nodding when appropriate, saying little. Keeping her fork busy from her plate to her mouth aided in her desire not to speak. It wasn’t necessarily that she didn’t want to converse with her colleagues (though there were several that she could think of that she did not want to speak with, but would not want to speak with her either), it was simply that she had nothing to say. Speaking for the sake of speaking had never interested her. When she had a reason she spoke. When she did not, she didn’t. Brevity, in this day and age, was an art.
Because she spent her time at meals eating and not chit chatting, she often finished before everyone else. She always waited the appropriate few minutes before excusing herself, weaving out among the few throngs of students ahead of her. Tonight, she had been a bit caught up in one conversation specifically, as it pertained to her area of expertise--the students’ use of devil’s snare in their defense against the dark arts class--and was not in fact one of the first to leave the table, for once. Several of the other professors were all ready gathering themselves up well before her. Finally, she pushed away her plate and came to a stand, a goblet still in hand, as she had not quite finished her pumpkin juice. Perk of Hogwarts… somehow, even if she took her goblet to the greenhouses, it would not only refill but find its way back to the kitchens without her assistance (thanks to, in large part, the house elves).
In reality, nearly all disciplines of magic connected with one another somehow. Potions and defense against the dark arts seemed to have the closest relationship to herbology, but it was all interconnected, all intertwined. All the professors were forced to speak with one another for some matter. These necessary interactions were nearly the only time she spoke with any of her colleagues at all. Of course, she nodded or offered a wave in passing, but rarely more than that and hardly ever a smile in return. In fact, she spoke more with her students, though that too was only out of necessity. This year in particular she had grown quieter, withdrawing further into herself and the greenhouses, mind blanketed with shadows. Things were changing…rapidly. Too rapidly. And everyone knew that plants needed consistency, thriving only when the changes were small and over time. A wall flower like her…would surely wilt away, unless she stood her ground, dug in her roots, became a weed that could not be weeded out.
Ellie started down the few steps, away from the staff table, the noise gnawing at her, pummeling at her ear drums, beating at her brain. Pound. Pound. Pound. So many people in one place…every time she walked into the great hall, from the time she was eleven, it set her just a little on edge. Stomach just a little queasy, nerves just a little frayed. The feeling had dulled with time, but still made her uneasy. She would be happy to slip back into her office, or the greenhouses and away from the static. That’s all it was to her—background noise. Her mind too introverted to try and pick apart words and thoughts from the endless chatter. If it did not concern her, she found no reason to give it any effort. Ellie had learned to conserve her energy, because there were times, when few, when she desperately needed it, such as for surviving meal times.
Curling her fingers around the base of the goblet, she glanced down at her feet, taking that last step—“O-oh…” The startle fell from her lips at the sudden contact with another human being. Her body had bumped into another—and though she wasn’t sure who exactly had run into whom, the result was a splash of pumpkin juice on both of the robes. “Sorry—I’m sorry,” face warmed a bit, a fluster flitting through her as she immediately stepped back, blinking in surprise. “Excuse me…” Brown eyes glanced up to see who it was she needed to apologize to, a wave of brown hair brushing against her pink cheeks. No real harm done, of course—a simply spell could rid both their robes of the juice, still, this forced and unexpected interaction certainly ruffled her petals.
With little exception, it seemed to be the expectation that faculty attend meals, especially dinner. Promoting house and school unity was a key factor in staff role modeling, and what better way to do that than to join together at the same table over bread and butter? For the most part, Ellie didn’t mind so much. She listened poignantly, nodding when appropriate, saying little. Keeping her fork busy from her plate to her mouth aided in her desire not to speak. It wasn’t necessarily that she didn’t want to converse with her colleagues (though there were several that she could think of that she did not want to speak with, but would not want to speak with her either), it was simply that she had nothing to say. Speaking for the sake of speaking had never interested her. When she had a reason she spoke. When she did not, she didn’t. Brevity, in this day and age, was an art.
Because she spent her time at meals eating and not chit chatting, she often finished before everyone else. She always waited the appropriate few minutes before excusing herself, weaving out among the few throngs of students ahead of her. Tonight, she had been a bit caught up in one conversation specifically, as it pertained to her area of expertise--the students’ use of devil’s snare in their defense against the dark arts class--and was not in fact one of the first to leave the table, for once. Several of the other professors were all ready gathering themselves up well before her. Finally, she pushed away her plate and came to a stand, a goblet still in hand, as she had not quite finished her pumpkin juice. Perk of Hogwarts… somehow, even if she took her goblet to the greenhouses, it would not only refill but find its way back to the kitchens without her assistance (thanks to, in large part, the house elves).
In reality, nearly all disciplines of magic connected with one another somehow. Potions and defense against the dark arts seemed to have the closest relationship to herbology, but it was all interconnected, all intertwined. All the professors were forced to speak with one another for some matter. These necessary interactions were nearly the only time she spoke with any of her colleagues at all. Of course, she nodded or offered a wave in passing, but rarely more than that and hardly ever a smile in return. In fact, she spoke more with her students, though that too was only out of necessity. This year in particular she had grown quieter, withdrawing further into herself and the greenhouses, mind blanketed with shadows. Things were changing…rapidly. Too rapidly. And everyone knew that plants needed consistency, thriving only when the changes were small and over time. A wall flower like her…would surely wilt away, unless she stood her ground, dug in her roots, became a weed that could not be weeded out.
Ellie started down the few steps, away from the staff table, the noise gnawing at her, pummeling at her ear drums, beating at her brain. Pound. Pound. Pound. So many people in one place…every time she walked into the great hall, from the time she was eleven, it set her just a little on edge. Stomach just a little queasy, nerves just a little frayed. The feeling had dulled with time, but still made her uneasy. She would be happy to slip back into her office, or the greenhouses and away from the static. That’s all it was to her—background noise. Her mind too introverted to try and pick apart words and thoughts from the endless chatter. If it did not concern her, she found no reason to give it any effort. Ellie had learned to conserve her energy, because there were times, when few, when she desperately needed it, such as for surviving meal times.
Curling her fingers around the base of the goblet, she glanced down at her feet, taking that last step—“O-oh…” The startle fell from her lips at the sudden contact with another human being. Her body had bumped into another—and though she wasn’t sure who exactly had run into whom, the result was a splash of pumpkin juice on both of the robes. “Sorry—I’m sorry,” face warmed a bit, a fluster flitting through her as she immediately stepped back, blinking in surprise. “Excuse me…” Brown eyes glanced up to see who it was she needed to apologize to, a wave of brown hair brushing against her pink cheeks. No real harm done, of course—a simply spell could rid both their robes of the juice, still, this forced and unexpected interaction certainly ruffled her petals.