Ian Grimm
May 06, 2010 4:24 PM
It's not wire-tapping if there are no wires, right? by Ian Grimm
It was unconscionably early for a Saturday morning, and Ian felt peculiarly energized despite the day and the hour and his present location. Something strange had possessed him since the beginning of the school term; it wasn't ambition, really, as he had always been ambitious-- his goals were more far-sighted than immediate. It also wasn't love, because as loathe as he was to admit it, Cecily Smythe had become an increasingly less common consideration in his thoughts. It took an actual sighting of the brunette before Ian would remember to wonder about her, and from everything he had ever read or made his psychiatrist tell him about, that sort of behavior certainly wasn't love.No, it was something entirely new and inexplicable, and Ian didn't know the word for it.
So, for the time being, he decided to let it ride and devote these new found energies to ensuring he wasn't going to be called home during the winter break. He needed to rise above the middle pack and prove that whatever intelligence had thrown him in with the Aladrens also translated to effort-driven drudgery. He decided upon the library for a start, and his Charms work for second. He'd been more than decent in Charms, practically speaking, when it came to applying the subject toward his preferred exploits; these exploits had varied over the years. Before he was forced to return home and private study, he'd devoted most of his free time to gathering intelligence through charmed clips that recorded conversation from the Ladies. As he never delivered on the clips, he hadn't ever actually tried them in the field.
Ian figured that if he had to have a core focus within Charms, he might as well settle on what already interested him.
He emptied his satchel onto his table, pleased with the library's relative emptiness, due to a combination of the early hour and the week-end. He neatly divided the various hair clips he had begun working on the year prior, his notes gathered in five different palm sized black notebooks, and the half dozen vials of adhesive positions that were supposed to buffer object-joined charms with greater longevity. He thanked Amelia mentally for having inspired him to scent the potions with various floral derivations; the potion normally smelled like boiled cabbage. He doubted any person, in particular a female, would take to attaching an item in their hair that smelled like garbage.
Applying the actual charms was a tedious, but intricate work, and it was well into morning by the time Ian paused and lifted his gaze from the table top. Rubbing his neck-- sore from hours spent bent over-- he lifted from his heels to see over the piles of stacks into the front portion of the library. What he needed now was someone to help him with a practical application. From behind his lenses, he spotted a solitary form only a few tables up from his.
Ian pushed up his glasses, smoothed back his dark blond hair, and then approached, preparing the words in his head. "Excuse me," he was pleased when he heard himself sound both polite and interested; he'd been working on it. "But I need someone to help me test something out. Would you mind?"
He could only imagine what Amelia might make of him, approaching others with something other than demand and a barely tolerant tone of voice.
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Ian Grimm
It's not wire-tapping if there are no wires, right?
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Ian Grimm
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Brian Moore
May 06, 2010 5:28 PM
But it's still spying by Brian Moore
It was earlier than Brian could ever remember getting up on the weekend, but he had important things to take care of. He woke up earlier than usual and tried to go back to sleep when he noticed a letter from his family out of the corner of his eye. That’s when the fact he hadn’t written them back yet, and it had been nearly a week.Hoping they weren’t too worried or upset, Brian bolted out of bed and got ready at the speed of light before racing to his scrolls and quills. Hopefully he could scrounge up a letter real quick on his own. But when he went to open his bag, he noticed one of his roommates sleeping and didn’t want to wake them up with his rustling. So he decided the library would be a more appropriate place to work on his letter to home.
That left him where he was now. Sitting at a table all by himself with the library empty as far as he could tell. Brian hadn’t been in the library all that often, but he’d never been in one without at least one or two Aladren sitting off somewhere working. It was weird. Pushing that thought aside, he started on his letter. He wrote:
Dear Mom and Dad,
He took his quill off, reread his first line, that crossed it out. He was writing to his whole family, not just his parents. He’d need to address everyone. He jotted down the names of everyone at his house back home and reread his work:
Dear Mom, Dad, Bianca, Jen, and Morgan,
Again, he wasn’t happy with his opening and he crossed it out. What if other family members happened to be at his house when he sent this? That’d be rude to not include them. So he made some changes:
Dear Mom, Dad, Bianca, Jen, and Morgan
Dear Mom, Dad, Bianca, Jen, Morgan, Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Richard and Aunt Kathy, my other Grandpa and Grandma
That was about as far as he got when an older boy with glasses came out from seemingly nowhere. Brian reeled back, slightly shocked that there was someone there and he hadn’t even noticed them! He politely asked if Brian would help him out. The first year smiled and nodded his head slightly – he would never turn down someone’s request for help, it wasn’t in his nature. “Of course, I don’t mind helping you at all.” He wondered what he had to do, but decided not to ask – he was taught that questioning one’s elders was rude, and he prized manners. Instead he stood up and asked, “What is it you need me to do for you?”
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Brian Moore
But it's still spying
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Brian Moore
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