- Messages
- 10,413
- OOC First Name
- Claire
- Blood Status
- Muggleborn
- Relationship Status
- Single
- Sexual Orientation
- Asexual
- Wand
- Straight 9 1/2 Inch Rigid Walnut Wand with Thestral Tail Hair Core
- Age
- 1/1999 (61)
Professor Pendleton had not intended to appear at the dance that evening, his anxiety being troublesome to him in the presence of large company, and had been coaxed from his stubborn set of mind only by the hearty persistence of a good friend and colleague. Even as he ascended from his quarters, dressed more fittingly for a dance in the nineteenth century than the twenty-first, he was not all sure his moment of weakness would be for the better; besides to sit at a table and make idle talk with the other attending professors, he didn't really have much reason to be there.
It was lovely, of course, watching the romance blossom between young hearts unblemished by the wearings of time and grief, but truth be told, he felt very much an alien in such an environment. He always had. Love did not come readily to the inventor's heart, around which he had constructed thick stone walls, not to keep others out, but to keep himself in.
An our or so into the night, when the general buzz of excitement was creeping its way steadily towards its climax, Monty parted from his table to find the drinks bar. On the way his attention was caught by a young girl whose heart, he had observed, was largely out of proportion for her stature. She was alone, as he had been upon her visit during a time of illness, and seeing her case he diverted his route then and there, having decided to return the favour. Not with his own company; rather, he had devised a different sort of scheme. "Hello!" he said, smiling as he joined her at the side. He held in his hand a drink he had almost finished, from which he sipped presently as he leant back against the wall. "Haven't you a dance?"
It was lovely, of course, watching the romance blossom between young hearts unblemished by the wearings of time and grief, but truth be told, he felt very much an alien in such an environment. He always had. Love did not come readily to the inventor's heart, around which he had constructed thick stone walls, not to keep others out, but to keep himself in.
An our or so into the night, when the general buzz of excitement was creeping its way steadily towards its climax, Monty parted from his table to find the drinks bar. On the way his attention was caught by a young girl whose heart, he had observed, was largely out of proportion for her stature. She was alone, as he had been upon her visit during a time of illness, and seeing her case he diverted his route then and there, having decided to return the favour. Not with his own company; rather, he had devised a different sort of scheme. "Hello!" he said, smiling as he joined her at the side. He held in his hand a drink he had almost finished, from which he sipped presently as he leant back against the wall. "Haven't you a dance?"