- Messages
- 1,062
- Wand
- Birch Wand 14 1/4 essence of dragonstone
- Age
- 9/2021
Dante never liked the hussle and bustle of breakfast. All four tables were filled with people and it was just too much for him to handle. The only decent thing he had found there was his library companion, a fellow Ravenclaw. Dante was still not entirely sure of his name, as he had never asked. In fact, Dante had not spoken a single word to him. Ever. Was that odd? He doubted it. He barely spoke to his siblings and parents. He dind't speak to students unless he had to correct they were being an irritation, and he only spoke when asked a question by a professor. If Dante did not talk to you, but remained in your company and occasionally looked at you, he rather liked you. It was when he spoke that there was usually something wrong. The pure blood had never started a conversation. He only ever attempted at continuing one. He frowned a little. To his memory, he only recalled one time that he actually attempted to continue a conversation, but after a few minutes, he had grown bored and the novelty of talk wore off. He followed his arm and looked at his fellow Ravenclaw. He was not holding his wrist, he was holding the sleeve. Dante had quickly realised that his companion did not like any unnessesary touching. Nor did Dante. However, a sleeve was not a wrist, and he wanted to make sure that they did not split up down here. These dungeons were rather unforgiving to those who lost their way.
Dante opened the door to the kitchens and led his companion through the door. He gestured around the kitchen, which had a few house elves inside. Dante knew them quite well, considering if he ate breakfast it would be down here. He moved to the fridge and began to gather ingredients to begin cooking something. He had no idea what he was going to make, but everything was here. He was grateful for the fact that the school accounted for the lack of magic that could be used. Making a meal with magic was something Dante was not capable of. He was too young and too inexperienced. He then turned to his Ravenclaw companion and decided that it was time they actually learn each others names. Even if he really liked the silence they had previously shared, even Dante appreciated knowing the names of people. He felt a little weird right now. He was going to start a conversation, even if it was just an introduction, it was still difficult for him to think up the right words. Then there was the fact that he was going to be using his voice, which was rarely used. He spoke softly, but made sure that his companion would at least hear him. "I am Dante." His accent revealed the fact that he was Italian. It was strange to hear his own voice, was it strange to consider ones own voice foreign? Even after three words, Dante was ready to never speak again. Talking and upholding a conversation was quite difficulted for the unpractised.
Dante opened the door to the kitchens and led his companion through the door. He gestured around the kitchen, which had a few house elves inside. Dante knew them quite well, considering if he ate breakfast it would be down here. He moved to the fridge and began to gather ingredients to begin cooking something. He had no idea what he was going to make, but everything was here. He was grateful for the fact that the school accounted for the lack of magic that could be used. Making a meal with magic was something Dante was not capable of. He was too young and too inexperienced. He then turned to his Ravenclaw companion and decided that it was time they actually learn each others names. Even if he really liked the silence they had previously shared, even Dante appreciated knowing the names of people. He felt a little weird right now. He was going to start a conversation, even if it was just an introduction, it was still difficult for him to think up the right words. Then there was the fact that he was going to be using his voice, which was rarely used. He spoke softly, but made sure that his companion would at least hear him. "I am Dante." His accent revealed the fact that he was Italian. It was strange to hear his own voice, was it strange to consider ones own voice foreign? Even after three words, Dante was ready to never speak again. Talking and upholding a conversation was quite difficulted for the unpractised.