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Writer, Published Poet, & Part-time Barista
I will spend my life writing poems about the life I thought I would spend with you. |
Alanna
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Post by Daimyan Delta Smith on Feb 13, 2024 13:31:15 GMT -8
Brown. Faded, warm, and earthy brown. The writer was brown from top to toes from his boots, to his clothes, from his leather messenger bag, to his eyes, to his hair. Thick messy, wind tangled waves of brown hair which was held back and out of the man's face by day-old intricate weaving braids (courtesy of his friend Hailey). The outfit was chosen more for comfort over fashion, his clothes worn so much the hems were starting to fray but not so damaged that one would begin considering 'retiring' the jeans, tunic, and knit cardigan. He wished he'd thought to bring a jacket, the weather was brisk but not so cold as to require said jacket but D did so hate being cold. There was always the option of going home. But if D did that then his flatmate might suggest he write. Of course she'd be right but D didn't want to. Honestly, a man could only work on so much depressing poetry of heartbreak and lost love before it became too much. He supposed that he could work on the book he'd been writing but D felt like doing something instead of just sitting around the flat writing. So he wandered, got lost in his own thoughts, and then got lost for real. When had Diagon alley gotten so dark, D wondered to himself. It took longer than he'd like to admit to realise he was in Knockturn Alley. Did it matter? Probably not the man decided with a mental shrug as he returned to his wandering and absent minded window shopping. Tags: Mael Gauthier Notes: First thread <3 Hope this works for you if not let me know and I'll make some edits
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Post by Mael Gauthier on Feb 13, 2024 16:48:40 GMT -8
Mael felt as though he was experiencing some strange fever dream. It had been ages since he'd walked the dark streets of Knockturn Alley. There was a feeling of nostalgia. He had mixed feelings about being here. He'd met plenty of good people out here. Adrian. He'd met plenty of bad people. Their names were long since forgotten. If he never crossed them again, that would be alright. So why was he here? It wasn't to take a trip down memory lane. Mael avoided Knockturn like a plague most days. The dangers were not worth anything here. Except until recently. Mael needed to visit one of the shops in search of something relating to scrolls he and Wiley had received. He figured if he couldn't find the answers in the decent part of the wizarding world, he'd find it here.
As he walked, he spotted a man that stood out amongst the crowd. It wasn't like Knockturn was crawling with people, but the man looked as though he belonged elsewhere. Mael stopped, watching him with a peculiar interest. Was he lost? He looked like he was window shopping. Mael knew when he'd first arrived in this country. No one had warned him of Knockturn. Maybe he should extend the courtesy no one else had extended to him. He casually walked towards the long haired gentleman and cleared his throat.
"Pardon me," he began. "I don't wish to intrude on your day, but you're not lost are you," he asked politely. He didn't want to startle the younger male. It was why Mael had kept his hands visible. He didn't want to appear as a threat.
Notes: It's absolutely perfect!
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Year/Job
Writer, Published Poet, & Part-time Barista
I will spend my life writing poems about the life I thought I would spend with you. |
Alanna
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Post by Daimyan Delta Smith on Feb 13, 2024 23:23:54 GMT -8
While D was the sort to think the best of people he'd also been around Knockturn Alley -because of duelist friends and confidantes of questionable morals- enough to learn that a little caution went a long way. He was also the sort to get lost wandering the halls of his mind palace when left alone for too long. But now that he had realized where he was D made an effort to maintain some sort of situational awareness. If only to avoid potential lectures from Hailey and Will should something go wrong.
When D noticed the reflection of a man approaching in a shop window he subtly shifted one hand to rest on his hip just over his wallet. He'd done the same thing anyone got too close and he'd made sure to keep one hand casually wrapped around the strap of his bag. Just to be safe.
Curious to a fault D glanced back over one shoulder when the man cleared his throat. Then, like a man in possession at least the most basic of manners, D turned to face the man who'd spoken to him. He looked like the odd sort with hair dyed white and the sort of energy that man him seem the sort to fuck around and find out. D should know, he always made friends with that sort, he dated that sort, he followed that sort around in the hope of watching something happen.
"Please intrude away," D smiled, amused by just how polite the man was. Maybe he was being a touche judgemental, but he honestly hadn't expected to find such good manner in Knockturn Alley. "I'm not lost, just suntering about aimlessly. Thank you for asking though, assuming that you're doing so out of genuine kindness and not in an attempt of subterfuge." The last bit was tacked on as the thought occurred. Looking the man over he didn't seem cunning enough.
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Post by Mael Gauthier on Feb 14, 2024 6:00:31 GMT -8
Mael liked that he wasn't met with hostility. The characters in Knockturn were often shady, rude, and generally unpleasant to be around. He'd worked here because he had needed a job, and nothing else had been available at the time. That and he had been ignorant to the history of Knockturn Alley. The smile the younger man offered was returned with a smile of his own. "That's good news," Mael said when the nameless man informed him he was not completely intruding. Mael knew people were often busy, and had little time for chitchat. He never intended to disrupt the balance of anyone's life. As eccentric and free as he was, he tried to mind the feelings of others. There was relief in his eyes as the gentleman further expressed that he was not lost, simply wandering about.
Was it wrong of him to feel mildly offended at the assumptions that his intentions were not true? Considering their current location, absolutely. Mael shook his head, blue-grey eyes still bright as ever. There were very few things that could dampen his mood. This encounter was not one of them. "I promise I've no ill intent. I know Hogwarts has a history of hiring unsavory types, but I like to think the Headmistress has put the past behind her," mused. Mael hadn't attended Hogwarts, but he knew all about the history of the school. It had an extensive history, all thanks to one Harry Potter and a Dark Lord named Voldemort. What a stupid name. That had been his first thought when he'd been told about the man who'd sought to kill a child for the sake of power.
He kept his hands visible as he rocked back and forth a bit. Mael had trouble standing still for longer than a few moments if he wasn't brewing or painting. "I honestly only approached you because you don't exactly fit the profile here," he admitted. It was the earthy brown color that had caught his attention. It stood out in all the dark colors that filed through the streets. "Sorry to bother you," he said with that same politeness. He would let the man be on his way.
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Year/Job
Writer, Published Poet, & Part-time Barista
I will spend my life writing poems about the life I thought I would spend with you. |
Alanna
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Post by Daimyan Delta Smith on Feb 14, 2024 11:50:25 GMT -8
Accepting the stranger's promise at face value was potentially dangerous. Or that's what D would've thought right up until the man implied that he worked at Hogwarts. Now that would be a very bold lie, one that he could easily look into. Deciding that the stranger was either honest or bold beyond reason D felt it okay to relax as much as was safe in Knockturn Alley. "You work at Hogwarts?" D inquired, he didn't recall the man, but, in all fairness, D hadn't been in school for what? At least four years, or maybe five? Dropping the mental math D focused on the stranger, he was much more interesting than maths.
Quick eyes noted how the man fidgeted, as if he had too much energy, a bone deep need for motion. It was oddly reassuring to D who had quite a few fidgety friends. Dante had been fidgety, both nervous and energetic and- Violently D shut the door on that train of thought, he let drop, let it crash, let it burn without calling for help. Lives were lost, D didn't care, such memories were unwelcome and had been for a while and would remain so.
Fixing his attention on the man something suddenly occurred to D: he hadn't yet introduced himself. Where were his manners? His grandmother would be so disappointed if she knew. "Sir, I can't accept such an apology because you have yet to bother me. Honestly I'm chuffed as a golden retriever whenever I converse with anyone at all." His words were accompanied by an amused smile that was more evident in his eyes than anything else. Deciding on the spot that he wouldn't mind crossing paths with the professor again D offered him a hand. "I'm D. Smith, a writer and part time barista."
Introduction given D circled back a touch: "You know, I've oft times pondered such judgements, at surface level they can be a roll of the dice if you don't know how to read people. But if one takes the time to really observe appearances can say a lot about a person." D rambled, he could feel himself beginning to ramble and had to hold himself back. He offered a wry smile, all sardonicism directed inwards. "Sorry, you probably have neither the time nor the interest in listening to a strange man ramble about judging books by their covers and what not.
But, all blether-blather aside, allow me to answer your unasked question: yes I don't exactly look the type, nor am I personally the type to hang about Knockturn Alley. But I have been known to hang around places I don't exactly fit quite often." D explained, gesticulating freely now, one hand twirling in the air as he spoke. "That's mostly because, in a broad sense, I honestly don't care one way or another for fitting in. Also because I tend to make friends with people I find interesting and those people are usually vastly different from myself."
After a pause D grimaced. "I'm talking too much, aren't I?"
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Post by Mael Gauthier on Feb 14, 2024 13:06:45 GMT -8
He nodded lightly at the question. "Potions Professor," he responded. Mael was proud of his career path. Hogwarts had not been his first option. He would have preferred to have stayed in Belgium, but being the free spirit that he was, he had flown the coop and come to London in hopes of carving out a better life for himself. That was in no way claiming that his life in Belgium had been poor. No, he'd lived a spectacular life, but there had been no work available and Mael was not the type to sit around and wait for an opportunity to come to him. He was far too driven for that. His sisters and brothers could mull around and partake in odd jobs, but not him. Mael had known what he wanted to do from the time he was a small child. He'd wanted to Master the art of Potions, and so he had. "Two years now," he added.
His desire to not bother people may have stemmed from his elder sister's constant reminder that he was being a bother. Mael had always been a curious child. He got into more trouble than not, and when Manon had the chance to scold him, she would. He would have preferred she choked on her words, but alas, fate had not been so kind. Now he was stuck feeling grateful whenever someone told him he wasn't irritating their soul. He had to unlearn such negativity. He'd only been away from her for about seven years. She'd thankfully been married off to some bloke two years before he'd left the country.
As the man introduced himself as D. Smith, Mael cocked his head to the side. He was coming across people with peculiar names lately. The last man's name had been Rip. This man had a singular letter! Mael was far too busy to consider the idea of children, but if he were to become a parent, he'd want to name his child something just as unique. Rocket was the first name that popped into his head, and he had to smile inwardly to avoid looking like a psycho. Shaking the man's hand was an easy enough distraction from his wandering thoughts. It helped ground him and pull him back to the present. "Mael Gauthier," he greeted. "Pleasure to meet you."
With introductions out of the way, Mael was bombarded with a plethora of words that his brain was forced to translate at a higher rate than he could function. His English was good, but it was not his first language. Sometimes if he wasn't paying attention, things got mistranslated. "Don't apologize," Mael said quickly. Mael was terrible at reading people, not that he was aware of such a thing. "I'm not busy." Sure he had to come down here for research purposes, but he could always handle that tomorrow. Besides, Wiley would be taking the brunt of the work. She was the Curse Breaker. He was just looking for clues. Those thoughts came and went as D went on to explain how he preferred the company of people who didn't fit the bill. Mael could understand that. If everyone were the same, life would get boring. It was why he, Manon, and Juliette never saw eye to eye. They wanted to put him in a box and stifle his talent. He had always desired to break free.
"No. You're right," Mael responded honestly. "Everyone says opposites attract and likes repel."
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Writer, Published Poet, & Part-time Barista
I will spend my life writing poems about the life I thought I would spend with you. |
Alanna
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Post by Daimyan Delta Smith on Feb 14, 2024 17:53:03 GMT -8
For a brief moment D wondered if perhaps the man before him had ever taught Hailey. But then he brushed the thought aside. He'd rather ask Hailey and get her mesure of the man instead of a stranger's measure of Hailey which was almost guaranteed to be wrong. That girl had thick walls and heart hidden deep in the briars.
If people watch was an olympic sport D would surely reach the podium at the very least. With all that watching came reading people, their subtle movements, micro expressions, nervous ticks, D looked for those, liked to encourage conversations in certain directions, asking about a topic the other liked or turning away from something when the other person became uncomfortable. Of course, he had to be looking for such things to notice them, there was a taught subconscious effect as well, but mostly D had to look for tells.
Cocking ones head to the side was not subtle it was, no matter how slightly, it was a flashing neon sign of expression. In D experience it usually expressed confusion or curiosity, though paired with other expression and movements, it could be goading, threatening, shy, deflective even. Mael Gauthier's expression flashed baffled curiosity rather loudly. With a smile made of a grimace D figured there was no harm in telling Mr Gauthier a touch more about himself. "The D is short for Daimyan, a name often associated 'demon'. Personally I'd like to think such a name doesn't fit." D explained self consciously he reached to play with a lock of hair. Some of D's friends called him Delta, but those were close friends and he had yet to decide if he was going to switch from simply D to Delta.
Biting back words D reminded himself that he didn't need to explain everything at length, he didn't need explain every single reason why he went by D because his mother had to leave him permanent reminder of her loathing for him because the cute girl next door thought it was funny for them to be D & V. Nope! He could not say something. No need to justify and defend every choice he made.
Not saying things was hard. Thankful D could always find something else to talk about when a topic needed changing.
Blinking D put a few puzzle piece together, like the man's accent, and the loading bar behind his eyes verbally assaulted the man. Oops? He decided he'd try to slow down the rambling. Maybe even give himself a limited word count? More flash fiction, less Greek epic, D thought amused by his own thoughts.
"I'm not busy," now that was an invite if ever D heard one! Poor Mr Gauthier, he had no idea what he was in for.
"Now personally I like to think of it as a balancing of scales. Some aspects of a person weigh more than others," D began ready to talk at length if allowed. "You have to balance out the similar against the different. Similar enough to get on, and different enough to be interesting. Too different, you might fight, too similar and you're either bored or they remind you of yourself so much that you can't stand them!" The writer went on, he hadn't reached full speed yet, intentionally speaking just a touch slower than a normal and sane person. But if the man let D build up too much steam then he might just turn into a verbal berserker and metaphorically steam roll Gauthier. " I wonder if I'd hate myself if we ever met," D mused under his breath, genuinely curious.
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Post by Mael Gauthier on Feb 14, 2024 20:30:43 GMT -8
The man who had introduced himself as simply D, had taken the time to explain that his given name was none other than Daimyan. Mael saw nothing wrong with the name, but as D went into further detail, he could understand the man's preference for the single letter that he now used. "For what it's worth, I think D is quite fitting," Mael said with a warm smile. While the association had gone over his head, he couldn't see how anyone could mistake D for anything but kind. This man, who much like himself, freely walked amongst the masses with nothing but warm smiles to offer. Although, as stated before, Mael was a poor judge of character. This man, who he believed to be kind, could very well have been one of those shady fellows he tried to avoid. How easy was it for someone to put on a smile and offer up a plethora of vocabulary and knowledge before robbing his victim blind? As it stood, Mael had little concern for such an incident occurring.
Had the man known he was in for a lecture, he might have offered his new companion a drink or two at the White Wyvern. The bar wasn't the nicest place, but it would be warmer than standing out in the elements. Mael was not consciously aware that D had slowed down speaking, but his brain was. He nodded in understanding, letting the younger man know that he was paying attention to every word. He too wondered what it would be like to meet himself. Personally, he thought he'd get along just fine. "That all makes sense," he said after a moment. "But what about character? Where do you draw the line between good and evil, per say?" Mael knew it could be a slippery slope, but he used the terms loosely. You could meld with a person who had a good personality, but what if their overall character was unpleasant?
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Year/Job
Writer, Published Poet, & Part-time Barista
I will spend my life writing poems about the life I thought I would spend with you. |
Alanna
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Post by Daimyan Delta Smith on Feb 15, 2024 23:06:44 GMT -8
"I get the feeling, that it's worth quite a bit," D answered, his half smile half grimace expression warmed to proper smile. "It's also appreciated." Over the years D came up with three categories for the reactions and response he received when he told people he real first name. Sometimes people tried to talk D into liking his own name. Those people were annoying. He'd had his whole life to consider his and what to go by, one well meaning or uppity -because they were almost always one or the other- wanker wasn't going to change his mind. Other people would try to come up other names D could go by inside of a single letter. If they were good enough friend then D had no problem with them giving him a different nickname, otherwise he'd really prefer if they kept their 'creative' ideas to themselves. Lastly were those that just accepted it and moved on without throwing in their two cents. If only everyone could be so respectful.
Mael's question had D laughing, "Mr Gauthier, are you really sure you want to get into a debate on morals and principles?" He returned with playful, lopsided smile. "Because I assure you I shall rise to the challenge but then we'll be out standing in the street like a pair of tossers all day. So, perhaps a rain check?" D suggested, not because he didn't love a good discussion of morals, he actually quite enjoyed such topic. So long as everyone involved remained civil. But he didn't enjoy standing around on the street all day, especially not in such poor weather. "Unless if you have nothing else to do. In which case, I would like to suggest that we continue this conversation somewhere warmer. There's a pub just up the way, not the greatest, but sure to be warmer at least."
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Post by Mael Gauthier on Feb 16, 2024 19:27:59 GMT -8
If there was any indication that the man had honestly approved of Mael's answer, it was the way his smile changed. The verbal confirmation simply sealed the deal. Mael was paying attention. Sometimes he could get a bit distracted, but he did his best to pay attention when people were talking. It was interesting topics that he tended to focus on the most. That, and interesting people. His not so darling older sister often patronized him for taking a lack of interest in things that didn't suit his fancy. Mael had never understood the desire to please the masses. Manon had written it off as though he could take nothing seriously. Mael would beg the differ.
D continued to call him Mr. Gauthier but he couldn't say he cared for the formality. His own name was suddenly both respectable and insulting at the same time. It was comical really. Now that he thought about it, no one had really addressed him in such a manner. He'd always been Mael or Gauthier or Professor Gauthier. Even his former boss had addressed him on a first name basis. He thought back to the man who had taught him everything he knew about Potions. Never had he been addressed so formally. The man had strictly kept calling him by his surname. Mael was going deeper down the rabbit hole. Had the man ever called him by his first name?
He blinked once, pulling himself back to the present. Mael missed most of what had been said, but his smile broadened at the offer of drinks. The platinum haired Professor was always happy to indulge when it came down to alcoholic beverages. He did not spend his paycheck wasting away at the bar, but he could appreciate a good brew. "The White Wyvern," he asked. It was the only pub he knew on this side of town. While the idea of taking a raincheck meant the possibility of coming across this curious fellow for a second time, Mael didn't think his schedule would allow for such an interesting opportunity. Why should he not seize the moment? "My errands can wait one more day," he answered. "Let's have a drink and talk some more."
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Year/Job
Writer, Published Poet, & Part-time Barista
I will spend my life writing poems about the life I thought I would spend with you. |
Alanna
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Post by Daimyan Delta Smith on Feb 17, 2024 0:48:46 GMT -8
Sometimes you could just tell when someone's mind wandered, when they checked out, when you talked so much that the person listening to you simply had to check. Well, maybe not everyone could tell, but D could. He'd seen it on enough faces over the years; to be fair, D knew that they could talk a dragon to death. Usually it was a cue that either the topic needed changing or that something had been said which trigger a memory or a thought or some such thing for the other party. Sometimes you just checked out for a second, wondering if you'd shut of the stove and locked the door before leaving the house. It wasn't worth taking personal, and even if it was, D wasn't the sort of man to take things personally unless it came from someone that personally knew him.
Apparently D had been onto something because Mr. Gauthier smiled even wider at the suggestion. "Ahh, I see you've heard of the Worst Pub in Magical London," D beamed, he'd spent more than a few late night at the Wyvern, either because he'd been in the mood for something a bit grunge-y, or because he'd gone with some of his duelist friends after their matches all finished for the night. The later usually being more fun than the former. Drunk duelists were a riot when they got sloshed. "I love it." He finished with a smile as if telling a secret.
For a moment, just a second, D's natural inclination to flirt almost got the best of him. He almost said 'You sure know how to make a man feel special Mr. Gauthier.' But he was Hogwarts professor and probably didn't want a young, overly friendly, poet flirting with him. "Glad to hear it," D said hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his sweater he nodded down street. "Nothing like a questionable drink and good conversation to warm you up on a warm day, yeah?"
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Post by Mael Gauthier on Feb 17, 2024 4:27:31 GMT -8
A small, tickled laugh escaped Mael. "Before I became so gainfully employed, I held a position at the Apothecary." He pointed a little further down the street, just to the right. "You call it the worst, I call it unique." Who was he kidding, the little bar was the trashiest place he'd ever had the pleasure of stepping foot in. The bartender had always watered down his drinks, people were constantly fighting for Merlin knew what reason, illegal deals were always happening in the darkest corners, and the patrons had awful attitudes, but no one cared if you were sloppy drunk or spent all night drinking your sorrows away. No, he didn't do either, he'd just seen it, and everyone had been too caught up in their own mess to care. "I share the same feelings." He did love it before he'd found something better. The White Wyvern was little more than a fever dream these days. Mael started towards the bar. "Is that not the best way to have a conversation," he mused with that same delight he always kept.
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Year/Job
Writer, Published Poet, & Part-time Barista
I will spend my life writing poems about the life I thought I would spend with you. |
Alanna
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Post by Daimyan Delta Smith on Feb 18, 2024 20:25:50 GMT -8
The shop that Gauthier pointed out was exactly what one would expect of an Apothecary in Knockturn Alley; dark, gritty, windows displaying ingredients that couldn't be found in Diagon Alley, but ones that were still legal. That said, D would be willing to bet that the shop did carry illegal goods, those sorts of things were probably just hidden in the back maybe even hidden in little hidey holes. For a brief moment D entertained shops selling illegal spell and potion components, hiding such things away under the floorboards or in comoflosed nocks in the walls, things that one needed the right turn of phrases buy.
It was a fleeting thought, there and gone, just D's imagination getting away from him already writing the story, thinking about a grim faced, dour, young man with red hair behind the counter. Maybe D could write his story? Maybe that story would get publish? Maybe he should focus, pay attention to the world around him instead of writing stories in his head to fill in the black places of the world.
"Looks like a lovely little place," D kept his face neutral as he could though he could do nothing to hide the joking glint in his eyes as he glanced over to the man walking with him. "You know, for Knockturn Alley." D chuckled to himself, "Honest though, sometimes a person needs a bit of grunge and filth, helps you appreciate beauty. Or, at least, that's my thinking. But that could just be my writer's mind giving things meaning where there is none." The man stuffed his hands deeper into his cardigan pockets. The action was as much because of the chill and a subconscious movement.
Nodding with a fond smile he sighed, D thought back on all of the best conversations he'd ever had. None took place in an expected local, and only half under 'normal' circumstances. "Oh I don't know," D began, thinking back to one afternoon in particular. "I once had a very enlightening conversation with several homeless people talking about time travel and whether or not fate is fixed and unavoidable or not. We were sat on a curb in Lambeth eating pizza and a date had stood me up. Worked out for the better I think."
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Post by Mael Gauthier on Feb 20, 2024 3:25:46 GMT -8
Mael decided that he liked D. He seemed good company, and anyone who could make jokes about the awfulness of Knockturn was a winner in his book. The man with his platinum hair gave an amused laugh. "It took all I had to turn in my resignation," he told the younger gent. "But Hogwarts needed a Professional, and every bird must eventually spread their wings and fly." He paused. "Well, maybe except chickens, penguins, and dodos." Mael nodded in agreement when D mentioned being able to appreciate the beauty of the world after seeing the ugliness of it. "You must not have sisters," was his comment. Now, Mael had a total of three. Two of those sisters were the definition of ugly. All of those muggle posters with the old hag and the giant wart, bad teeth, and hunched back described his two eldest sisters just fine. They were spitting images in his mind! Now his baby sister Wilhelmina was Merlin's gift to mankind. She was an absolute bundle of joy to be around. She put all those muggle posters to shame. She was the beauty of the Gauthier family.
"Are you implying getting stood up is the best way to start a conversation," he asked in awe. Mael didn't even know the meaning of the word date. He couldn't even recount the last time he'd been on one. He was far too busy with brewing new potions to bother with the 'finer things of life' as people often called relationships. Mael couldn't say he understood the need or desire. He did take a moment to think of D's topic. "What was the conclusion of that conversation?" Off the top of his head, he knew Time Turners existed. Time was not fixed, but an endless cycle with multiple branches based on choices. He might feel more inclined to go into detail if he had pizza too.
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Writer, Published Poet, & Part-time Barista
I will spend my life writing poems about the life I thought I would spend with you. |
Alanna
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Post by Daimyan Delta Smith on Feb 22, 2024 19:12:30 GMT -8
"Don't forget Emus and other large bird. We also have to consider what counts as fly, because so birds can only fly a few feet and I'm not sure that should count." D added with a smile, mentally thinking of every bird he knew of and whether or not they could fly. It was a pointless conversation, the sort D found amusing. Sometime they could even inspire him in the oddest of ways. "But, all birds aside, that's very noble of you." He was only being about fourteen percent sarcastic because D honestly considered teaching to be a noble profession.
Mr Gauthier comment gave D pause did he have sisters? Honestly D wouldn't know. It had been, what, eleven, no twelve years since he'd last seen him mother. For all he knew, D could have loads of siblings and he'd probably never meet them. "No, no sisters in my life. Just myself and my father who is a very chaotic man. He was of a mind that mistakes are just lessons; so maybe it's his fault I keep trying to find meaning where there is none." The man mused, letting his gaze travel up towards the sky as he thought. Then he glanced back to Mr Gauthier, "I take it you have sisters then, yeah?"
Laughing D had to shrug, "I guess, perhaps I am in a way? The idea is more being open to conversation at any given moment. After all, a broken clocks right twice a day." Thinking back D was reminded of the rather poor ending to that lovely time. It had been a conversation, that helped remind D of how much he just loved people. Swiftly followed by a moment that made him hate humans. "The conclusion was that the coppers didn't like homeless people loiter on the curb. They were less than polite when they asked us to leave, unnecessarily so I think." D had almost gotten into a fight, apparently dating a gryffindor on and off for years had rubbed off on him. Thankfully, D kept his head. Because at the time he'd had his wand on his person and if he had gotten arrested then that would've been hard to explain without sounding crazy.
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