Bowie Oz
Active Member
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- 29
- OOC First Name
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- Kingwood 11 1/2 with Essence of Thestral Tail Hair
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<SIZE size="50">It was not often that the ministry official found himself in the middle of nowhere in a country he did not know that well. While his job had been keeping both of his feet firmly on the ground, his heart had not been so happy about the stability of his life. Sure it was better, he had a proper income and was able to just do more things that made him happy, but his true passion in life was seeing the world, and while he'd spent a year doing so, Bowie Oz knew he had so much more to explore. While his time at Hogwarts had set himself up to be able to have a pretty good job, he had never really gotten one until recently. he knew that it would be a big step for him, to finally realise having a job meant actually staying in that place. but, he reminded himself of one small factor. Bowie was not just another guy. Who found it hard to settle down. He was a wizard, and this meant so much more. He could in the blink of an eye decide that he wanted to be somewhere else. And for this he was grateful, it was no competition between the people around him, that being a wizard, and a fairly good one at that had it's uses. It was for this reason, that almost as soon as he had finished work, he apparated back to his currently apartment back in Auckland, dumped his bag, and then looked at the world map in his bedroom. Without bothering to change out his suit, he imagined himself in the middle of a small town in Spain, called Ronda. He had been their once before while on a small stop in Spain in his round the world trip. Within a second, he found himself graced by an incredible heat, and he immediately regretted the fact that he hadn't changed into more suitable clothing. He was in Southern Spain, in his dark blue suit, white shirt and dark blue tie. it was not the most ideal way to be dressed in such a place like Spain. But, it did not matter so much. He wandered around the town for a bit, while also glad that it was fairly early in the morning for the spainish people, since then the heat would be more unbareable. Bowie smiled as he walked. It was a nice walk. There was a market setting up in the main square. The smell of fresh bread was filling the humid air. The small amount of commuters getting ready to drive to the nearby city for the office jobs in poorly air conditioned buildings. Bowie had a pretty good idea, that they were probably not that happy about having to go to work in such weather. But, then he looked like one of those guys. Bowie took a deep breath and continued his way around the small town. He had loved mornings the most in his time traveling. It had been the best time, to see the country at it's best. The peacefulness, slowly growing to a much bigger noise. It just reminded him that at it's core, the world was a truly amazing place.
Still wandering the streets he noticed a small, old looking book store. Bowie had never really been that studious, he had never really been into reading, but there was something about an old book store that drew him in. He knew that he probably did not look that Spanish, his only slightly tanned skin different from the deeply tanned skin of those around him, as they moved from the extremely hot summer weather, to slightly colder autumn. He crossed the still quiet road and stood outside the book store. He peered in the window, and noticed an old women behind the counter. It appeared as though the store was meant to be open. Bowie, looked away from the window and walked to the small door. It was like any other door. As if the store had once been a home. There were no windows on the door, and the faded green paint of the door, was peeling away, revealing a dark brown wood. It was an odd door. Not that Bowie spent much time paying attention to doors, but he did notice this one. Reaching up he briefly touched the peeling paint, and the hard wood. The sun was slowly casting light upon the door, as it crept up from behind the low rise buildings on the opposite side of the street. It cast an orange glow all around the street. Something that made Bowie realise how amazing Spain was. The perfection in the buildings to cast such a light. He was used to the cold hard stone of New Zealand, or England. Spain had a grace that made him wish he lived in such a place. Moving the dark blue eyes away from the street, he took the handle and opened the door. Stepping quickly inside he was greeted by the ever familiar smell of old books that had come across humidity more than once. He smiled at the women behind the counter, before beginning to walk around the store. It was small, and there was little space between the shelves. His eyes were greeted by Spanish books with a whole range of titles, as well as old books, that were hard backed, and looked like they were published at least a hundred years before. Bowie could not read Spanish, he couldn't even understand it, when it was spoken. However this did not stop him, from taking a particularly old book off the shelves and turning it between his hands. He quickly realised that the books was actually a translation from English to Spanish. he noted this as the authors name was distinctly not Spanish. He flicked it open and saw the published date, 1952. The ministry official could not help the smile, as he read this. Bowie, despite not being able to read Spanish, still opened at the first page. And looked at the writing. It was as he was staring intently at the book, in such a way that would make it look like he was waiting for the words themselves to turn into english that a noise like the door to the shop opening sounded. however, he ignored it. Too engrossed in the book in his hands, though he could not actually read it or understand a word of what it was saying.
Still wandering the streets he noticed a small, old looking book store. Bowie had never really been that studious, he had never really been into reading, but there was something about an old book store that drew him in. He knew that he probably did not look that Spanish, his only slightly tanned skin different from the deeply tanned skin of those around him, as they moved from the extremely hot summer weather, to slightly colder autumn. He crossed the still quiet road and stood outside the book store. He peered in the window, and noticed an old women behind the counter. It appeared as though the store was meant to be open. Bowie, looked away from the window and walked to the small door. It was like any other door. As if the store had once been a home. There were no windows on the door, and the faded green paint of the door, was peeling away, revealing a dark brown wood. It was an odd door. Not that Bowie spent much time paying attention to doors, but he did notice this one. Reaching up he briefly touched the peeling paint, and the hard wood. The sun was slowly casting light upon the door, as it crept up from behind the low rise buildings on the opposite side of the street. It cast an orange glow all around the street. Something that made Bowie realise how amazing Spain was. The perfection in the buildings to cast such a light. He was used to the cold hard stone of New Zealand, or England. Spain had a grace that made him wish he lived in such a place. Moving the dark blue eyes away from the street, he took the handle and opened the door. Stepping quickly inside he was greeted by the ever familiar smell of old books that had come across humidity more than once. He smiled at the women behind the counter, before beginning to walk around the store. It was small, and there was little space between the shelves. His eyes were greeted by Spanish books with a whole range of titles, as well as old books, that were hard backed, and looked like they were published at least a hundred years before. Bowie could not read Spanish, he couldn't even understand it, when it was spoken. However this did not stop him, from taking a particularly old book off the shelves and turning it between his hands. He quickly realised that the books was actually a translation from English to Spanish. he noted this as the authors name was distinctly not Spanish. He flicked it open and saw the published date, 1952. The ministry official could not help the smile, as he read this. Bowie, despite not being able to read Spanish, still opened at the first page. And looked at the writing. It was as he was staring intently at the book, in such a way that would make it look like he was waiting for the words themselves to turn into english that a noise like the door to the shop opening sounded. however, he ignored it. Too engrossed in the book in his hands, though he could not actually read it or understand a word of what it was saying.
Out of Character: - Okay, so it's a slightly weird start, but it's the only way I could think of them meeting.