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- Knotted 14" Sturdy Pear Wand with Unicorn Hair Core
- Age
- 12/2024 (37)
Orwell Kitchen Brocken had for the first time in a couple of years left his home community and ventured out into the wizarding world. It had been a necessity really, or well, in his mind it had been a necessity. Orwell had broken his wand, and was in need of a new one. While he'd gotten the previous wand from someone else, this new wand was actually his, and actually new. It wasn't someone else's passed down to him, no, this wand belonged to him. Orwell had been beyond excited about it. He had made an effort for this day and everything, knowing that it had been coming, that he'd be venturing out. He'd broken his wand about two weeks before, and it had taken a week of persuading his parents, to put together what little money they had and get him a new wand, a birthday and christmas present that wasn't something second hand, not that he didn't appreciate it, but something new was nice. He'd spent his time reading, and imagining what the world would be like. It would be the first time in a long time that he'd gone to somewhere other than the inside of his grandfather's house. So, while very excited, Orwell was very much nervous about it all. Orwell had gathered the best t-shirt that he could, and cleaned the jeans that he'd been wearing over the past few weeks. He'd even tried to make his shoes look nice. His parents had said it was pointless, that they wouldn't run into anyone, and it wasn't like they would know anyone. He didn't have to make an effort, but Orwell Kitchen wanted to. He wanted to look nice, he wanted to not stand out. However, he did. With bright pink hair he stood out, and no matter how clean his clothes were to him, they were too big, giving his perfectly healthy build a much smaller appearance. Brock's clothes looked old, they were repaired clearly by hand, and his shoes, despite his growing on frame they had only recently become his size, were in desperate need of being changed. He stood out, even though he'd tried his hardest to not.
The teen had been left to his own devices once they'd arrived in Obsidian Harbour. He'd been given the money, a time to absolutely be done by and then left to go to the store himself. That had been pretty difficult, being in a shop by himself. He had been nervous as anything, had barely said two words to the store person, he had been utterly lost in how the transaction was suppose to go. He'd read about it, and seen it sort of been done, but this was different. There was very little money in his community, everyone did their bit and used what was available to them, only for larger items that a person couldn't get in the community would they ever use money or venture out, so he didn't come into contact with what to most would be a normal simple thing. He'd finally be done with it, and was now the proud owner of his own wand. He waved goodbye to the store person as he left. It was a crispy, cold winter day. Brock was normally not affected by the cold, he had plenty of layers back in the community, he just huddled with others, next to fires and underneath blankets, but since he'd been going to the big town, he hadn't taken a large jumper, others had needed those thicker layers more than he'd had, so he had been left without. The problem was, Obsidian Harbour was much colder than he'd thought it would be, it was suppose to be somewhere warmer than where he lived, but it was damn cold. His old worn trainers didn't keep the warmth in, and his gloves were fingerless and useless. Brock was cold, he was clutching the bag with the wand tightly, and wondering where his parents were. They'd given him a time to meet them, but had been a little generous time wise. He hadn't seen where they'd gone, so it wasn't like he could follow where they'd gone. Of course, this wasn't overly big deal, and he was sure he'd find them when the time was. For now, the boy decided to use this little bit of freedom that he had. Brock was finally out in the world he wouldn't turn down that chance. He glanced around, noticing that there was a bee flying around. Bees, at this time of year? Maybe it was lost? Bees weren't too common in the winter. Orwell decided that he would follow it. He didn't know of anything else that he could do.
Orwell loved animals, he loved all animals, and could never bring himself to understand how any person could hurt one. Orwell was a pacifist, he couldn't understand why any person would hurt another person, or why they'd hurt an animal. He didn't actually have a pet, but Orwell loved animals. He liked caring for creatures, and plants. He loved being able to play with birds, or swimming next to fish, even if he realised they were just swimming away from him. Orwell, walked over to the bee, watching it carefully. He was following it's movements, as it flew forward. Now, all of this boy's attention was focused on the bee in front of him. He was making a little buzzing noise as he followed it. Kitchen crouched as it flew lower, and the teen would've kept going but he was stopped, when he ended up bumping into something, or as it turned out, someone. "Sorry" he said as he looked up, it was a kid his age from what he could see. He then glanced back around, it appeared the bee was gone, he couldn't see it. "Where did you go little bee?" He muttered, before glancing back, "Sorry about bumping into you, you alright? I didn't see you, should've been paying more attention. I don't get out much, so I was distracted" he asked quickly, forgetting about the bee realising this was a kid his age. Brock stood up to full height to face this person, wrapping his arms around him slightly to keep in the warmth from the clothes he had. Chasing the bee had distracted him from that.
The teen had been left to his own devices once they'd arrived in Obsidian Harbour. He'd been given the money, a time to absolutely be done by and then left to go to the store himself. That had been pretty difficult, being in a shop by himself. He had been nervous as anything, had barely said two words to the store person, he had been utterly lost in how the transaction was suppose to go. He'd read about it, and seen it sort of been done, but this was different. There was very little money in his community, everyone did their bit and used what was available to them, only for larger items that a person couldn't get in the community would they ever use money or venture out, so he didn't come into contact with what to most would be a normal simple thing. He'd finally be done with it, and was now the proud owner of his own wand. He waved goodbye to the store person as he left. It was a crispy, cold winter day. Brock was normally not affected by the cold, he had plenty of layers back in the community, he just huddled with others, next to fires and underneath blankets, but since he'd been going to the big town, he hadn't taken a large jumper, others had needed those thicker layers more than he'd had, so he had been left without. The problem was, Obsidian Harbour was much colder than he'd thought it would be, it was suppose to be somewhere warmer than where he lived, but it was damn cold. His old worn trainers didn't keep the warmth in, and his gloves were fingerless and useless. Brock was cold, he was clutching the bag with the wand tightly, and wondering where his parents were. They'd given him a time to meet them, but had been a little generous time wise. He hadn't seen where they'd gone, so it wasn't like he could follow where they'd gone. Of course, this wasn't overly big deal, and he was sure he'd find them when the time was. For now, the boy decided to use this little bit of freedom that he had. Brock was finally out in the world he wouldn't turn down that chance. He glanced around, noticing that there was a bee flying around. Bees, at this time of year? Maybe it was lost? Bees weren't too common in the winter. Orwell decided that he would follow it. He didn't know of anything else that he could do.
Orwell loved animals, he loved all animals, and could never bring himself to understand how any person could hurt one. Orwell was a pacifist, he couldn't understand why any person would hurt another person, or why they'd hurt an animal. He didn't actually have a pet, but Orwell loved animals. He liked caring for creatures, and plants. He loved being able to play with birds, or swimming next to fish, even if he realised they were just swimming away from him. Orwell, walked over to the bee, watching it carefully. He was following it's movements, as it flew forward. Now, all of this boy's attention was focused on the bee in front of him. He was making a little buzzing noise as he followed it. Kitchen crouched as it flew lower, and the teen would've kept going but he was stopped, when he ended up bumping into something, or as it turned out, someone. "Sorry" he said as he looked up, it was a kid his age from what he could see. He then glanced back around, it appeared the bee was gone, he couldn't see it. "Where did you go little bee?" He muttered, before glancing back, "Sorry about bumping into you, you alright? I didn't see you, should've been paying more attention. I don't get out much, so I was distracted" he asked quickly, forgetting about the bee realising this was a kid his age. Brock stood up to full height to face this person, wrapping his arms around him slightly to keep in the warmth from the clothes he had. Chasing the bee had distracted him from that.