Tree, Gravity and... a Shoe? [Open||Marcellus]

[Keesha Trent]

Keesha strolled from the castle as her hair was swept behind her by the cool spring breeze as she moved in a hurried manner. Stopping at a foot of a rather large tree, her gaze travelled upwards from the trunk to its outstretched branches. She settled herself atop a sturdy branch excluded from the rest of the populated areas of Hogwarts.

Humming softly, she swung her foot to the song in her head. From scrutinizing the wide expanse of the green field, her head rose towards the sky, taking in the scenery. Soft tufts of feathery clouds along with large cottony clumps floated in the clear sky. Soon however, a familiar odor reached her nose and a silvery filter appeared in front of her. It was smoke. Not smoke from a fire, but smoke from a Muggle cigarette. Weird, she hasn’t seen one of those for ages.

Carefully shifting her weight as not to fall, she strained to see where the smoke was coming from through the leaves. She could see a boy’s head, but the rest of him she couldn’t. Her little jerking movements caused her doll shoe to slip from her foot, and hit the person squarely on top of his head. She winced at the soft thud the impact made. The boy, who was hit, cursed under his breath and inspected her shoe. She hastened to jump down and landed on two feet although her shoeless foot stung a bit. Ignoring the pain, she tried to apologize to the victim of her falling shoe. “I- I… sorry,” she stuttered while fumbling with the cuffs of her sweater and colour rose to her face.

[Marcellus Desmond]

He snagged an ashen bomber jacket and shrugged it on over his green button up shirt and stood up from his seat. The chair had been occupied for hours spent mulling over his essays. Marcellus’ hand slipped into his pocket, drawing out the packet of cigarettes from which he deftly removed a stick. It was thrust loosely between his lips as he turned around to face the doors of the Hufflepuff common room and flung them open. He indulges himself into a quiet meandering exploration of the massive castle, intent on secluding himself. As he rounded a corner, the tall double doors that led to the courtyard finally came within eye-shot. Steadily, he marched up to the doors and with one hand tugged one side open and stepped out.

Immediately he felt his lungs fill with fresh air which was ironic because his intention of coming outside to smoke. As he walked through the expanse of stone steps, eyes of those who were idly hanging around landed on him, particularly to the cigarette hanging off of his lips. Ignoring their glances, his free hand dove into his pocket in search of his wand. Marcellus stuck the end of his wand to the cigarette, muttering a spell to ignite the stick. Hr took a long, confident step towards a lone tree, trailing smoke behind him as he moved forward. The people at the sides had seen his approach, moving apart for him to pass, avoiding the smoke that came from his mouth. Standing directly under the tree, he stuffed his free hand into the pocket of his dark denims, taking a drag on his cigarette and blowing the smoke out slowly, watching it rise gracefully.

Mutters can be heard from the background, both merry and suspicious. It has not left his attention that the crowd has not averted their attention from the billowing smoke, probably not used to seeing such an activity. With another huff, he let half of the smoke pass through his nose, making him look like a wild beast. Although like all other beasts, each one was tamed. His hand rose to his face, the cigarette clamped between his fingers about to take another drag when suddenly something fell on his head. Tapping the cigarette, he placed it back to his mouth and squatted down to pick up the thing that hit him which apparently was a shoe. It was impossible for shoes to have grown on trees and his silly thought was proven true when he heard a thud behind him followed by a stuttering statement. The shoe’s owner which was a Hufflepuff lass was flustered by the happening but Marcellus simply let it by. His outstretched hand held her shoe, “I believe that this is yours?” he said before turning his head away to exhale the smoke. It would be very rude of him to blow it directly infront of her.

[Keesha Trent]

The smell coming from the smoke was bitter, making her eyes water. Keesha coughed slightly, the gas sending a sting to her lungs that weren’t use to cigarettes. Personally, she didn’t like cigarettes at all. Its putrid smell clung to everything, the smell of tar was nearly impossible to get rid of. It was a bad habit that people pick up and never did she indulge herself into such an addiction.

Setting her own opinions aside, her fidgety fingers reached for her shoe that the boy was holding idly on his hands, “Yes, it is mine. Sorry for that,” she said, gesturing her hand towards his head, “you know, a while ago?” she stopped and recoiled her hand aware that she was babbling. She often did these things; fidget, ramble and play with her fingers whenever her nerves were frazzled. And the looming figure of the boy-or rather young man- in front of her did look quite menacing.

Keesha’s eyes started to look away from her present companion, possibly searching for the fastest and most effective escape from her embarrassment. Small talk could be it and she gave it a shot. “So do you go here to… smoke often?” she asked trying her best to sound casual.[/size]