Closed On a Cloudy Day

Nixon Mercury

Freelance Writer | Emotionally Unavailable
 
Messages
472
OOC First Name
Anna
Blood Status
Mixed Blood
Relationship Status
Single
Sexual Orientation
Bisexual
Wand
Curly 10 Inch Sturdy Willow Wand with Meteorite Dust Core
Age
23
It was an overcast day and Nixon, slightly disgruntled at the dimmed natural light, headed into the student lounge with his camera hanging from his shoulder and his arms full of notes from classes. Overcast skies usually meant light that was neutral, neither too warm or cool toned, and therefore perfect for taking photos. Though that day Nixon had intended to make use of harsh sunlight to take photos with dramatic shadows, thus leading him to give up when he realized the sky was grey and the lighting too soft, meaning the images he wanted to capture would be near impossible. Instead he returned to his dorm and then made his way back down to the student lounge where he currently stood, searching for a table for him to sit down and over his notes. Nixon was never the most academic student, often choosing hobbies over homework, but as exams drew closer he knew it was in his best interests to at least attempt to study, and with his article for the hogwarts monthly published and no immediate work for the school yearbook, he was at a loss of what else he could have done with his day, seeing studying quietly as his only option. Thankfully there was a table near the back of the room that was empty, and he wasted no time placing his notes down and sitting in one of the chairs. He moved to place his camera on the table too, sorting through the parchment he brought with him and using the camera as a weight for the pile he wasn't currently reading over.​
 
Satchel was in a funny mood. If he were at home, he would've talked to Plantain about it, but since he wasn't allowed his snake at Hogwarts, he felt oddly alone. He didn't have friends in this place, only his family, who he didn't consider particularly beneficial in his life. His family were part of the reason why he had no friends. They all described him, they all saw him, as though he were some kind of evil genius. The reality was very different. Satchel Edgar Howard was a soft, sensitive soul, without malice. Yes, he'd helped plan his family's tricks and stunts, but mostly so that he could manage damage control. If he were in charge, nobody got seriously hurt. Since meeting Plantain though, he'd started to realise that helping his family at all was almost like agreeing with them. Finding out he was a parselmouth hadn't helped matters. The Howards believed it was some sign of great things to come. It wasn't.
On this particular day, Satchel found himself wandering the school hallways. He kept his sketchbook with him at all times, though it was mostly filled with failed attempts. Satchel wasn't gifted artistically, nor was he naive about this fact. He had a good eye, he saw beauty, but he couldn't recreate it, no matter how many classes he took, or how much he practiced. He still enjoyed the action itself though, and was hoping to get some sketching done out the windows of the student lounge. Upon entering, though, he found the room occupied, "Oh, hello." Satchel stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. Would it be alright if I came in and sketched for a bit? I thought I might get a cool angle on the forest from here, but if it's distracting, I can go elsewhere?"
 
Nixon looked up when he heard a voice, confusion washing over his face before he realized the boy was talking to him. The boy mentioned drawing a view of the forest and the angle being cool and Nixon felt a little uneasy about letting someone join him as all he wanted was some peace and quiet since he couldn't practice his photography, but at the same time he felt obliged to say yes, knowing he had asked many people around Hogwarts similar things when on a mission to take photos, and that it would be hypocritical and selfish of him to say no. He nodded in response after getting over the interruption, and then said a simple "yeah, sure," before he returned his gaze to the table in front of him. Nixon wasn't taking photos that day due to the lighting but was tempted to join the boy in the venture of capturing the angle of the forest, even if it wasn't how he planned to spend his time that day. If the boy was an artist he likely had an eye for what looked nice and it could be smart to ask about it and see the view for himself. "Why is the angle of the forest cool from here?" Nixon asked, forgetting about his work and looking over to the boy again.​
 

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