Post by hunter on Jan 20, 2012 0:24:00 GMT
WALKING WITH SPIDERS
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
[/color][/font]* * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * *
The situation as a whole was a bit embarrassing, both considering his state of consciousness and his failure to do what Hunter should’ve found a simple achievement. Before him was a small, unimportant looking vase he had surreptitiously swiped off a desk in the Gryffindor common room, there for all to see. Little did the vase know (unsurprising, as it contained neither life nor the ability to be aware of its obligations or surroundings), it should have been invisible and for none to see; Hunter was studying for his least favorite of classes, and after many futile attempts spanning over an hour and a half, had yet to successfully complete the assigned vanishing charm. Of course, due to the embarrassment of the situation and the less than respectable action of stealing (or borrowing) said vase, he had barricaded himself in the most dungeon-like layer of the library, letting the bulky bookshelves block out the sun and any sounds were muffled and inaudible. And there he had sat, in the belly of the book-eating beast, and lapped up what information he could – which ended up to be a very limited base of knowledge about the already limited subject of charms. Frankly, Hunter’s worst class seemed to be a much fluffier version of his best: the heavyweight magic behind transfigurations seemed a significant more (useful wasn’t the word) arduous than the swish-and-flick ability that was the muscle behind charms. He had been warned time and time again that his hesitation to accept the subject as true magic was the genesis of his downfall, but alongside his doubt and inability to achieve anything flawlessly in the class, Hunter was known for his insubordination. In fact, it was a surprise he was studying and putting effort into the assignment at all considering just how unruly his opinions and actions towards Charms class had become (he was nearly disappointed in himself… nearly).
Not that he was getting much studying done at the present: Hunter was asleep.
It was said that a handsome man could be made all the more handsome with his nose in a book. There was no doubt that Hunter was a handsome man (and he used the term “man” quite intentionally), and by that logic he should have been downright irresistible in his current surroundings. However, dead asleep in the middle of the library with his nose most literally in the crease of a book achieved the opposite goal than what was advertised: he was embarrassing himself rather than inviting the female population to flock in his direction. Though it was hard to determine if he was receiving any attention at all – be it disdainful or of attraction – for he was quite a calm sleeper. While his siblings would ridicule him and jest about his chronic snoring, the fact of the matter was, save for an occasional dog-like twitch, he slept still and peacefully; the calm before the storm of his extravagant lifestyle. It was Hunter’s excessive confidence that had aided him in making a promise: the rumor of his unattractive snoring tendencies were either a mass hallucination, or an invention designed by his younger siblings so that any image of their brother sleeping alongside another would be unrealistic (the young man assumed that, by their standards, no girl would ever tolerate snoring). After all, here he slept, completely undisturbed and soundless, as his unconsciousness put on a song and dance to keep him that way. The current had dragged him under, and thus there was no world turning about. There was no quidditch match coming up, no meal to be served in a matter of hours, and there definitely was no charms homework. The latter was especially distant from his present state of mind; assuming there was a point past “not in existence”.
In the intensity of his dream – more than likely his subconscious was amusing him with a quidditch match – Hunter let his entire body spasm in one of his infamous sleeping twitches. The sharp movement was more than enough to knock his lightweight (yet dangerous – he was sure of this) wand to the ground. Void of sound-absorbing furnishing, the resonating noise was closer to a cacophonous disaster in place of the reality: a very miniscule thud. Regardless, the effect was all the same; Hunter was a finicky sleeper, and ergo he was asleep no more. Forgetting the code of conduct of where he was, as well as why he was there to begin with, the young man let out a morning-worthy groan as even the dim library lighting dilated his pupils. He wore a countenance of displeasure as he comprehended the uncomfortable pillow his thick textbook had made, and the crick in his neck that was the ultimate result. Slowly, molasses thoughts helped him understand the rest of the situation, until finally (finally) his tired, questioning brown eyes rested upon the vase – it was still very visible, and still very much a reminder of his presence in the library. A second groan followed, and once more Hunter the handsome man become even more handsome; he collapsed back into the book.
this post is complete. it has 851 words for anyone any everyone. audrey has no notes at the moment...
AND IT'S QUIET COMPANY[/center]