Packing Blues (Serephine, Open) *KEEP*

[Faith Appleby]

It was the end of term, and Faith was sitting in the window next to her four-poster idly observing the students out enjoying the sun; wishing desperately that her packing would take care of itself so she could go join them. As it was, however, Faith's trunk still sat empty and the piles of stuff on her bed had only grown larger and less organized since she'd started only twenty minutes ago.

'This is useless,' Faith thought, deciding the sunshine was just too tempting for her to stay cooped up in Ravenclaw tower. "I'll just finish tonight," she said to herself as she stood and walked out the door.

Faith bounded down the steps out of the castle and paused to take in a deep breath. She didn't smile often, but today the fresh air had breathed new life into her, and all her fears and worries were gone; at least for the moment. As she looked around, trying to decide where to go, the bright colors of the gardens caught her attention. She had wanted to pick a few flowers to take home to little Ellen.

Faith wandered in the direction of the garden and admired the beauty that surrounded her. Here, it seemed a rainbow had exploded, drenching every inch in the most vivid colors. Faith began to walk slowly down the winding path, contemplating the flowers as she passed and wondering which Ellen might like best.

Before too long, Faith felt a presence following close behind her, but paid them no attention. She could hardly expect to be the only person drawn to the enchanted gardens on such a beautiful day. If whoever it was wanted or needed to talk to her, they could and she would gladly respond.

Right now, however, she was much too intrigued by a particularly interesting blue and gold flower, and knelt down to take a closer look.

[Serephine Rylier]

Serephine had always considered time as an enmity, for it had never served her right. It rebelliously obeyed the commands of no one and never ceased to oppose her. It plodded along like an injured mule when she was longing for something of significance or happiness to occur, and when it did finally happen, it sped wildly at 600 mph. Take now, for instance. Futilely attempting to elongate her remaining moments at Hogwarts, she wished fervently that she could reside here eternally, as she had little wish to retreat home, where her memories were tarnished and tainted. Glancing at her watch with irritation, she calculated that she had already wasted precisely twenty-two precious seconds merely thinking these thoughts. Which might have explained why she was lounging in the east tower at 5 am in the morning, gazing through the stained glass window at the approaching dawn. Wiling away the hours, she was painting using oils to capture the essence of the sunrise. Dotting shades of dapple beneath the sun to represent the mass of rocky hills, she selected a light yellow mixed with a tinge of pale pink for the emerging sun. And why was she up at this beastly hour? Well, she reasoned that the elapse of time between falling asleep and awakening was weighed as merely a second to her, meaning eight hours of time squandered.

I don’t want to go home, she thought fiercely, jabbing at her paints with muted fury. Completing her painting with a light sprinkling of stars about to vanish, she extracted her wand and murmured the words she knew would put the finishing touches on it by allowing it to come alive. Admiring the effect of the faintly twinkling constellation and movement of the feathery clouds being blown to the side, she slid her canvas into a charmed plastic baggy and sealed it. She stowed it into her pocket and meandered down the rickety, wooden steps, hopping over steps that creaked or were missing. Spying a side door to her right, she gratefully cracked it open and slipped out.

As she exited the castle, she followed an unknown path overgrown with weeds that appeared to lead to the gardens. Breathing in the fragrant air, she plucked a buttery tulip and laid in her palms. Letting a thin stream of air escape, she gently blew it away. She was careful not to trod in the flower beds as she wound her way to the center of the garden. She spotted a lone, slim figure walking ahead of her, but decided to ignore her for the time being. Eying a silvery blossom, whose hue was augmented with glistening morning dew, with fascination, she sat cross-legged with a slip of paper and a quill to the side of the path. She was about to complete her sketch when a gust of wind, (which she had no clue as to its source, for the day had previously been of a calm temperament), snatched the paper out of her hands and had flung it across the gardens where it nestled among dozens of spiked brambles encircled with what seemed to be poison ivy upon closer examination. And just like that, her day was ruined. I’ve changed my mind, she thought, exasperated, I can’t wait to get out of here.

[Faith Appleby]

Faith loved how time slowed here in the gardens, freeing her mind and allowing her to think. All her fears and worries of only a few hours ago were completely erased, at least for the moment. 'How refreshing,' Faith thought.

It was the newfound ability to really think with a clear mind that caused her to realize something important regarding her purpose for being in the gardens in the first place; and that was that strange, exotic flowers were probably not the best gift for a 6-year-old. She didn't think the Headmaster would keep poisonous flowers in the gardens, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Keeping that in mind, Faith had moved on from the odd blue flowers and was now wandering aimlessly down the path, glancing at each patch of flowers, looking for anything that resembled something from a common Muggle garden.

But just as she spotted a beautiful group of yellow-gold and purple mums that were all but screaming Ellen's name, a breeze picked up and wound its way through the loose strands of Faith's hair and down her spine, causing her to shiver--not because of the cold, it wasn't very cold--but because it was so completely out of place in what had been a very still morning.

As she ran her hand back through her hair in an attempt to tame it once again, Faith noticed a solitary white paper floating to the ground nearby, right into a patch of what looked very much like poison ivy among a patch of roses without the blossoms. Faith knew better though--it would really be cruel if Headmaster Witchard had planted such a thing here--and as she approached, she noticed that yes, indeed the green leafy plant looked like poison ivy but was missing the glossy sheen that acted as the tell-tale sign reading "Don't Touch."

Now 100% (well, okay, 98%) sure the plant was safe, Faith reached in to pull the paper out while carefully avoiding the many thorns and brambles scattered around the ivy. However, in order to do so, she had to precariously balance herself on her left toes to reach the back of the patch where the paper had landed. Her cheeks flushed as she realized how utterly ridiculous she must look, flailing awkwardly in an attempt to keep her balance; and secretly hoped that whoever had been following her earlier had left or was at least not paying attention well enough to have witnessed it.

Fortunately, Faith managed to retrieve the paper without falling head-first into the mess. 'That would have meant a trip to the Hospital Wing,' she thought, quite glad she wouldn't need to add that to the pile of things left on her 'To Do' list.

Her equilibrium properly restored, Faith turned her attention the piece of parchment she now clutched in her hands. It had caught on a couple thorns and ripped slightly as she'd pulled it out, but the substance was left undamaged. She was surprised to see a very beautiful ink sketch of one of the flowers in the garden--a unique silvery one Faith had noticed as she'd walked in but not paid much attention to--and she immediately knew it must belong to whoever'd followed her into the garden. That's why the footsteps had stopped--they'd stopped to draw--and as Faith looked around at the beauty of the garden, she didn't blame them. If she had any artistic talent, she would have done the same.

Faith turned to greet the artist, and was surprised to see it was someone she already knew, considering she knew so few people. Still sitting near the garden entrance, quill in hand, and a look of sheer annoyance on her face, was Serephine Rylier.

Faith and Serephine had met only once before, just before finals in the library; but their meeting had not been a normal one. Because of that meeting, Serephine knew just about everything there was to know about Faith's past, and therefore had rocketed straight into "friend" status, if not more.

Faith smiled just a little wider as she walked briskly back up the path to the spot where Serephine sat, and extended her arm with the drawing in hand. "Hi Serephine! I think this belongs to you? I tried to keep it intact, but some of the thorns caught hold...so very sorry... it's very good though. I had no idea you were such an artist. Is that what brings you out this morning? Or do you have a case of the 'Packing Blues' too?" Faith giggled slightly, then paused, waiting for a response.

[Serephine Rylier]

Serephine was not one of those people with short-term memories that constantly mislaid their possessions strewn all over the place. No. She simply had the misfortune of being plagued with bad luck. Especially regarding subjects she was expert at. In this case, art. More specifically, her sketches. The way events in her life, however minor, were turning out, she suspiciously suspected that her sketchbook concealed dark hexes of some sort. Over the course of this year, she had lost ten of most precious and expertly drawn sketches. Very recently, a drawing of an intense dueling scene between two of her fellow Slytherins had vanished, while a lifelike image of her late cousin was savagely torn by another Slytherin in the dungeons. And now this.

Glancing with irritation at the area her sketch was floating around, Serephine twirled an emerald blade of grass with her index finger and sighed with exasperation. Lolling lazily in the shade of a gargantuan elder tree, she fiercely decided not to retrieve her drawing. She needed to learn to accept defeat in an impossible situation. Besides, it wasn’t worth the risk to recover it anyhow. She did not wish to add an aggravating itch to her accumulating list of annoyances. She was anticipating a change after the new year had begun, and yet still regarded it with apprehension. That revealed just how little faith she had in her luck. And speaking of faith…

Faith smiled just a little wider as she walked briskly back up the path to the spot where Serephine sat, and extended her arm with the drawing in hand. "Hi Serephine! I think this belongs to you? I tried to keep it intact, but some of the thorns caught hold...so very sorry... it's very good though. I had no idea you were such an artist. Is that what brings you out this morning? Or do you have a case of the 'Packing Blues' too?" Faith giggled slightly, then paused, waiting for a response.

Jaw gaping with amazement, Serephine took the sketch and examined it. The paper was peppered with pinpricks from the thorns and had several gashes. It was smeared with a grassy stain, but was otherwise defined as merely acceptable. At least she recovered it… Peering up inquisitively at Faith, she wondered how Faith had managed to retrieve it.

“Th-thank you,” Serephine managed to stutter. “But how did you avoid the patches of poison ivy?” she asked, noticing that Faith had no rashes upon her hands. Of course, she did not inquire as to why Faith had fetched it back for her. After all, she supposed they were friends – or at least acquaintances who knew practically everything about each other’s personal history. But wasn’t that what friends were? Well, seeing as she had never acquired any, she wasn’t really expected to comprehend what friendship was like. Pinching the sides of the sketch with her left hand as to avoid contracting a “poison ivy” rash from it, she resolved to repair it as best as she could; it was a stunningly drawn sketch, after all.

[Faith Appleby]

Serephine's face was adorned with a shocked look that surprised Faith, but she couldn't figure out why she would be so surprised by a simple act of kindness. Even if Serephine hadn't been a friend, Faith would have probably done the same thing for her anyway. It was only right.

“Th-thank you,” Serephine managed to stutter. “But how did you avoid the patches of poison ivy?”

"Oh!" Faith giggled as she glanced back at the patch of non-poison ivy ivy. "It does look like poison ivy from here doesn't it? Don't worry, it's not. I was careful to check it out before reaching in. I was honestly more worried about the thorns! So sorry about that, again," she said, pointing to the torn paper Serephine now held very carefully in her hands.

((OOC: So sorry about the short response! My brain is totally fried for creativity right now!))