Adrift on Magical Arts Room and Sports

Renée Errant

March 20, 2011 11:32 PM

Adrift by Renée Errant

She rarely ever felt as if she needed to be alone, though she had always enjoyed solitude. Today, Sunday morning, she needed to be alone. There was a canoe, as if it had known she'd be needing it. Renée climbed over the rocks, not even feeling the sharp stones dig into the soles of her bare feet. She reached the shore of the small beach, untying the rope that held the canoe tethered to the shore, and climbed in before it started to float away, her feet making light splashes as she hurried aboard and leapt in. There were two paddles in the boat. Renée thought she would have enough strength to paddle to the cave she saw about a few miles off, but she tired out sooner than she would have thought possible, and looked around her at nothing but the lake she was now stuck in.

'Well, I did want to be alone.' This was about as solitary as she was going to get. Nothing but water on that side, on that side, on that side, a distant shore ahead and a distant shore behind, where the door out of MARS was. 'Should have eaten before I left.' She peered out the side of her canoe, before settling back inside, stretching out so that she could look at the sky from a comfortable position. 'Something is bothering me. What is it?'

She wasn't used to being bothered. It happened from time to time, well, frequently. Little arguments with Marianna, other kids at school (a lot of other kids at school), her father, everyone really. Things that riled her up for a moment, but then it passed. Trivial things like that always passed. But today she felt... bottled up. A tanned arm drifted from her side to off the side of the small wooden boat, her fingers straining for strands of water. 'I feel a little sad, I guess. A little tired. Everything's fine, everything's pretty, but I still feel like screaming.' She sighed, feeling the breath leave her nose. The sky was a light blue mixed with early morning gray. The sun was warm, but not too hot, its rays streaking through harmless clouds.

'Maybe I just need to be unhappy for awhile.' Her fingers began to dance in the water, little water spiders tickling the skin. 'It's not so bad, being unhappy. I just feel a little lost. I guess I'm always a little lost.' There was something almost sweet that she could taste. She didn't feel so good, but she didn't really feel bad about feeling bad. It was just the mood she was in. She began to relax more and more into the wood, at first letting the lake's gentle shifting sooth her. She didn't worry about what she would do for breakfast or lunch. She only sat up to pull off her robes, revealing the long thin white shirt and denim shorts she wore. Less heat, but she didn't feel any better, or worse.

Eventually she began to wait for something. 'Something to happen.' Sadness she could deal with, boredom was out of the question. She shifted in her stretched out position, drumming her nails on the seat she was propped on. 'But maybe nothing should happen. Maybe that's why I feel this way.' She puzzled that out. 'Maybe that's why I really came. Maybe I should just stay... it's sort of nice being here... alone. Sad, but that can be good too.'

She doubted many people would be up that early on a Sunday morning, and far fewer would come down to MARS. For now she was alone, in a canoe she could hardly paddle, stuck in the middle of the lake. 'And to think,' She shifted again in her position. 'I was going to be unproductive and just sleep in.'

0 Renée Errant Adrift 0 Renée Errant 1 5

James Owen

March 25, 2011 2:50 PM

Awake by James Owen

He'd never understood how people could just lie in bed and waste their lives by sleeping. James went to bed at curfew and was awake at six every morning (much to the distaste of his roomates). There was so mucn do to in life, so much to accomplish. Admittedly there were days he stayed in bed a couple of hours after he woke, but he used the to read some of the most magnificent books ever written. Today he didn't feel like reading. Besides it was Sunday, and that meant other people got up even later than usual. James needed to get out of the dormitory - out of the commons, probably. He showered, dressed in long cotton shorts that had two previous owners before they'd fallen into James' possession, and a green collared t-shirt that had once been bright but was now faded. He quickly combed his thick brown hair (it was now too long for his tastes but he'd get it cut over midterm), brushed his teeth, washed his hands again, pulled his socks all the way up to his knees and tied his shoelaces in a double-knotted bow. He hated it when his shoelaces became untied.

Before leaving the commons, James packed a small canvas carrier bag with his wand, the book he was currently reading, and his comb, and he ties an old dark green sweater round his waist. During this time he was quiet as he could be so as not to disturb his lazy roomates, but when he was done he shut the door perhaps a little more firmly than was necessary, resulting in a bang as it closed. He was doing them a favor, really - they'd get so much more out of life if they didn't sleep so much. Like James, for example, was going to go for a walk in the gardens. Or be the first person in the library and choose his own spot. Or maybe he'd draw little pictures on the underneath of all the Quidditch stands.

Actually what he ended up doing was going to MARS, as its had been shortened more or less universally (he chuckled a little at the unintentional pun of MARS being universal), with the intention of looking around undisturbed. He'd heard there was a water room, and while James couldn't swim he did like to play with water. He sometimes made little boats out of twigs and leaves and floated them down the river near his home. When his sisters made boats he threw rocks at them to sink them, and it became like a battle. They didn't see at that way and often ran off crying to their parents that he'd ruined their boats, but it was supposed to be fun. He was sure he could explain it to Josephine if Jade wasn't there to get in the way, so maybe they could try something along those lines at Sonora. He wondered whether the water room would provide a suitable arena.

Opening the door, James was transported instantly to a large lake and surrounding grasslands, rocks and caves. He'd grown up with magic his whole life but even he had to admit that this was impressive. Enjoying the peace and solitude, James picked up a few flat rocks from the shore of the lake. He skimmed them a couple of times, watching the pebbles bounce on the top of the water a few times before finally sinking. That's when he noticed the canoe, and that someone was sitting in it. They weren't going anywhere, just sitting there out in the lake. James stared a little bit but then went back to finding flat pebbles to skim again. If someone wanted to sit out in the lake that was fine with him, so lobng as they didn't come back to shore and annoy him.

0 James Owen Awake 168 James Owen 0 5

Renée

March 27, 2011 11:27 AM

On Shore by Renée

She felt her body strain even though there was nothing she could do. The early morning gray was steadily fading, the shining blue seeping through and assaulting her with sun. She missed the clouds. Her stomach began to murmur, and she was forced to acknowledge her hunger. 'Should have brought something.' She felt wild though, and almost dirty. Earthy. And knew that if she went back, into Cascade Hall, she'd feel bad, none of this sweet sadness, just bitter and bad. She leaned over the boat, long dark curls pouring into her own reflection. She was sinking into herself.

PLOP

Wide dark brown eyes, brightened by curiosity, looked around to see pebbles skimming the lake. Renée straightened up to see a student on the shore. It looked like a boy, and she squinted but couldn't make out the face. Probably no one she knew anyway. She watched the pebbles continue to fly, hopping over the impossible surface until finally they sunk. She giggled to herself, enjoying the private show.

PLOP PLOP PLOP PLOP

She smiled, the simplicity of the moment cleansing her and she didn't feel quite as dirty. Her hunger, however, was not quenched by the entertainment and she settled back down inside her canoe, still listening to the boy skip rocks from the shore behind her. She gripped one of the paddles again, and dipped it into the water, wincing as her muscles strained to move the paddle in the correct motion and successfully managed to turn it so it headed to shore. Already she felt tired, dizzied from lack of food. She pulled the paddle back in, and was happy to see that the canoe was moving at a snail's pace but towards shore. She settled herself back again, and draped her darkly tanned legs across the edge, adjusting her short denim shorts so that she was more comfortable. She began to massage her own arms, and continued listening for the continuation of the plop plop plop that she hoped wouldn't stop. There was a cry of a seagull but she couldn't find one in the sky. Gradually, her eyes closed and they didn't open until what felt like hours later, there was a bump underneath her boat and guessed that she had landed on shore.

0 Renée On Shore 0 Renée 0 5

James

March 27, 2011 4:33 PM

Oh. It's you. by James

James skimmed stoned for a while. When he got bored of that, he set about making some boats. There were enough leaves, twigs and grasses around for him to use - which was still peculiar, given that he was in a room indoors. Carefully selecting his materials, James started working on two vessels. One had a v-shaped hull made of interwoven thin twigs tied together with grass, and the other was a square twig frame filled in with flat leaves - James curled them up and poked the stem through to make a chain of them. It wasn't very stury but looked suitably bouyant - it would do well in shallow, calm waters. The boat with the wooden hull looked like it would be more sturdy in the tide, but it if tipped over it would sink rather than merely capsizing.

When each structure was near completion, they were approximately the size of James's open palms, which made them easy to carry. He first fixed a mast and sails onto each, and then carried them over to the water's edge. He stopped, because there was a canoe there, presumably the canoe that had been out in the lake earlier because that one had gone, and this one was here. James hadn't seen anyone else around, and it didn't look like there was anyone in the canoe, either. He approached it, and peered inside. "Oh, great," he said aloud, his voice riddled with sarcasm. It was that stupid Niffler girl (whose name he still couldn't place, but then he'd never been very good with names).

She looked like she was sleeping. Or maybe she was dead. Looking down, James saw a long stick not to far off, Carefully placing his boats down safely, he picked up the stick and held it over the canoe. He poked the Niffler girl a couple of times in the stomach. "Are you dead?" he asked her.

0 James Oh. It's you. 0 James 0 5

Renée

March 28, 2011 1:37 AM

Your enthusiasm overwhelms me. by Renée

The hunger plus the time spent lying under the sun drained her of energy and she couldn't even think of moving. The wood of the canoe dug into her draping legs and she felt sore, the blood stilling in her calves. They began to feel as if dulled needles were piercing her skin. Still, it felt nice to be leisurely and she didn't move from her position, completely at peace.

"Ung!" Renée convulsed as something hard poked her in the stomach. "Basta!" Her leg shot out, foot jabbing the assaulter in his side. Her eyes shot open, glaring under long lashes and she pushed herself up with difficulty, arms balancing her stretched out form as best as her shaking limbs could. "What do you think, sabio?" She lifted one hand to rub her stomach, grimacing at the dull pain caused from hunger and then the added jabs. Anger gave way to renewed energy, and she struggled from her position to lift herself from the canoe and stand, but her legs chose at that time to fall asleep and she found herself falling back again. "Ow." She grimaced again, the dull thud of wood against the back of her head not being the most pleasant of sensations, though it was still infinitely better than having an enchanted leather bound ball sent to crash against it. She rubbed her eyes, clearing them of sun, and struggled to stand up again, her gaze falling on the boy.

He seemed familiar but she couldn't place him. A feeling welled up inside her though, which she attributed as being irritated for him jabbing the stick at her. 'Classes.' Oh, yes. She had seen him at classes. 'George. Jim. Johnathon. Gregory. Yes, that sounds right.' Ugh, no it didn't. Gregory was an awful name. She hoped that wasn't it. She felt as if she were dreaming. A mix of energy and now dizziness overcame her, and she couldn't be quite sure what she was now seeing was reality. "Odd I should dream you up." She mumbled to herself, her eyes raking the boy's taller form. With a heave she pushed herself up, letting her balanced legs fall onto the sand and leaned against the rim, very much aware of her temporary disability. Her legs weren't in pain as long as she didn't move them.

There were beads of sweat on her brow, covered mostly by the long dark curls slackened down her face, and her hands clenched on the rim of the canoe, still watching the boy warily. He had poked her. With a stick. It was such an odd thing for him - for anyone - to do and if she wasn't so hungry she would delve into it. As it was, she was starving, couldn't currently move for fear of falling on her face, and was hot and tired.

0 Renée Your enthusiasm overwhelms me. 0 Renée 0 5