Sketching Nature is Unnatural

Avrille Grinaes

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OOC First Name
Alexis.
Wand
10¾" Vine Wood, core of Veela Hair
Sitting in the Forbidden Forest, on a tree stump was a raven haired eleven year old. She had a large black sketch book leaning against her thin, pale legs, with a piece of contrasting charcole in between her slender fingers. She was focused on her sketch, not paying attention to much else, except how the light hit the trees from between the branches. The girl had her tongue sticking out of the edges of her mouth from concentration, it wasn't something she did on purpose, or something she had ever noticed that she did, but she did. This girl was First Year, Ravenclaw, Avrille Grinaes.

Avrille was wearing a tank top that was too large on her awkward body, and a pair of shorts, that also hung on her hips, or lack there of, uncomfortably. Every so often she would break her concentration from her sketch, and would flick her harlequin green eyes up to the area she was drawing. The Ravenclaw, was very private about everything, and her art was no exception, so when she would return to her dorm room, she tucked her sketch book and art supplies under her matress and bed. The last thing she wanted or needed was some overly curious girl skimming through her things.

Even though the forest was forbidden to students, it was clear to anyone who had a mind of their own that the Professors and the prefects really could care less. Her Mama would probably bail her out if she were caught anyway, or she could lie, she had always been very good at it. When she finished she looked down at her drawing and nodded in approval, it was one of her better ones, of nature at least. Usually Avrille didn't have patience to draw nature because it was never constant and always changed, but it seemed that today that was all she had been drawing. Earlier today she had drawn the lake front and lawn from birds eye view, it wasn't her best, but it certainly wasn't her worst.

lame topic title xD
 
The soft rustle of the leaves crackled together in squeamish terror as heavy boots walked past them with deliberate loudness, with no mind for being concealed at all. Shadowed eyes flicked from side to side as the cloak slithered across the forest floor like a serpent reaching for it's prey. A pale hand reached out of the moss-coloured robes the figure wore, and clasped gently over Avrille's shoulder; it was not frightful, but rather, mystifying. Henric Lee walked into view and squatted down beside Avrille, "An odd place to want to sketch. Though the beauty of horror is a concept I grasp, yes..." His eyes appeared glazed and distant, then they sharpened instantly and his gray orbs flickered to focus on Avrille. "I apologise, I get lost in art. Odd place for a first year to be as well." He flashed her a brilliant smile, his features oriental and exotic, but he seemed to belong in the forest. "I'm Henric. I don't believe I've met you before?"
 
Feeling a hand drapped over her awkward shoulder, Avrille turned her head towards the person that dared touch her. Her gaze met a pair of grey orbs, her lips curled upwards into a smirk. When he commented on her art, her cheeks flushed in embarassment. She didn't like to share her art with anyone, and she had done so for several years, until this boy came along. She looked down at the charcole in between her fingers and placed it down on the thick paper before rubbing her fingers together, letting the black shade smuge along her slender white fingers. She looked back up at him, her bright green eyes void of emotion other then amusement in how different he was. This boy could open his mouth to say one word and he was still different from the lemmings at Hogwarts, and she liked that in a person, as she felt she was different herself. "Oh no need to apologize," she responded, with her thick Russian accent. As he introduced himself as Henric, she bowed her head politely and then met his gaze again. "Avrille Grinaes," she stated, a graceful town to her usual cold one, that was still there.
 
Henric noted her accent with slight amusement, since his own voice was devoid of any accent after years of practiced speech. One would note he often carried himself with a strange air of prepared readiness and reflex. Despite his exotic features, he spoke quietly, directly, and his words were coated in smooth sugary lies. He blinked for a moment as he deciphered his knowledge of the Russian language, sifting through the library that was his mind, his lips curled at the sides in a little smile as he said in a passable imitation of Russian "Z`drasvooyte. Kak vas zavoot? (Hello, what's your name?)"
 
As Henric spoke Russian Avrille's eye brows rose slightly. "I've already said my name," she responded, also in Russian. It was clear to her, that he had to think hard about how to say that simple phrase, but she made no comment of it. "Avrille," she repeated, her cold tone returning again.

sorry lame
 
[ Its k. ;x]

Henric paused, then gave her a brief little smile, again acting as a facade barrier to his true intents. "I'm not that good at Russian, keep repeating things I'm not supposed to." He chuckled to himself slightly as his piercing gaze lingered on the sketchbook, taking note of it's outlying lines before he raised his head to the air. This girl seemed like one of the hostile ones. His eyes lighting up for some reason, he reached into his cloak and held out a deck of cards. "Do you believe in prophecies?" He asked cheerfully, his fingers moving deftly and spreading the cards out in his palm neatly.
 
As Henric smiled, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. She hid her emotions as well, it was seen as a weakness where she was from, so she was familiar with facades, and had her own. She didn't mention it though, she thought her eye roll said it all. "That is clear," she agreed with a nod. When he asked her if he believed in prophecies, she looked down at the cards spread against his palm. She thought about it, no expression written on her face as she did so. "My beliefs are complex," she responded. Avrille wasn't certian if she believed in prophecies exactly but she didn't believe in tarot cards, those were completely fake, in her opinion.
 
Henric swiveled his thumb on the top card, flicking it up, "Eight of Spades." He mused, as the card flew through the air and begun spinning around Henric in a continued motion instead of falling. "Two of Clubs." He continued, flicking out the next card; "Five of Hearts." He ended, flicking out the last card. "Neptune is alert tonight..." He murmured as all three cards flipped open and danced around him in their respective numbers. "You will lose a possession of yours ... soon. You may have known it briefly, or have treasured it long before anything else; but remember, whenever you grasp hold of something, no matter how briefly, if you are holding it, it is yours." Smiling mischeviously at her, he hurled the deck of cards in the air, causing them to rain down and obscure the last few cards. Amazingly enough, every single card was blank - nothing was upon them. "Joker." He said slowly, and as the Joker floated to his hand slowly, all the cards vanished in little wisps of smoke. On that enigmatic note, he folded his arms and grinned to himself.
 

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