Niccolò York {Draco}
Do we have the same feathers?
Thu Jan 2, 2014 18:16

Niccolò entered the classroom at what had become his usual pace; slow and languid, not exactly casual, more like he seemed unsure at what his purpose was, no longer striding forward but shuffling in faintly awkward movements, his balance compromised whenever he bumped into a desk. He only resembled his former self when asleep (kicking his legs, a broad grin spread across his face, an occasional smothered chuckle pressed between him and the pillow, racing dogs and serpents and dragons through mountain jungles and winter forests, diving beneath rainbow oceans and stripping past demons of the deep), when flying (hair whipped about his eyes, his heart thudding in his throat as he took a dive, sharing in the laughter of his teammates, dizzying oval laps around and around and around the pitch, resisting any urge to land), and when eating.

At the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, Niccolò’s shadowed face lit up, chocolate bulbs illuminated behind each iris, suddenly bounding forward with a sharp smile carved across his mouth, chasing after the plate of cookies until it led him to Veronika Blackburn, whom he only noticed after reaching across her desk and snagging a fistful of cookies with a triumphant laugh, pulling back and plopping down on the open seat beside her, carefully depositing his treasure on the wooden surface of his desk, his hand stained with crumbs and smears of chocolate.

“Hey,” Niccolò greeted her, voice slightly muffled, a cookie shoved inside his mouth, stretching to accommodate its entirety, a pleasure moan stirring his throat as he closed his eyes and succumbed to the chocolate gooey goodness that was cookie. Something weird had happened after meeting his grandfather up on Pearl Street a week ago, though he couldn’t remember what had happened or what they’d talked about, but since then sensations and conversations and people that were familiar to him first began to feel lost, strange and foreign, and then just as suddenly new and wondrous but rediscovered, treasures he’d forgotten he’d lost.

"...we have been discussing the value of performing non-verbal magic very recently, however I advise that you tackle today’s spell the old fashioned…" Professor Clarke left them a brief introduction of the lesson before trusting the advance class to start practicing the spell. Niccolò shoved another cookie into his mouth, a glint of white striking crunchy brown, before drawing out his wand and practicing the m-shaped motions.

Avis. He let the incantation linger at the forefront of his mind, like trembling raindrops trickling through the crevices, or strands of thread dangling just behind his eyes. Avis. Avis Avis. It became a silent mantra, moving his arm in a lazy m-shape, closing his eyes and imagining… calming colors, like black… and grey… the soft feathers… and eyes that were cold, almost dead, sharp and smart but with instinct and not exactly wise, and maybe they were a little bit ugly but with hidden beauty, sparks of green and blue like the ocean stitched across their neck and spilling across the curve of their twitching heads…

A rush of warmth emanating from his wrist, and suddenly a white light flared from the end of his wand, leaving a burst of feathers in its wake and a startled coo as a pigeon emerged into the classroom and frantically flapped its wings to prevent itself from plummeting towards the hard ground. Niccolò blinked his eyes open, the lines etched beside the corners of his mouth filled with frozen laugher. He watched it flap around the classroom, joining a chorus of other newly conjured birds, his attention diverted from the sharp dips and dives at Veronika’s laughter, amused by her own creation, a cute little hummingbird.

“Pretty sweet,” He easily agreed, popping another cookie inside his mouth, munching happily and swallowing the thick bundle of chocolate chips and crumbs. “I forget… are these totally newborn beings or were they simply transported from somewhere else?” A slightly stricken look passed across his face. “I mean… some of these couldn’t be someone else’s pets, right? Or like, they might have been nesting or something? Or, maybe they’re not real birds, just imitations of them?” He turned around in his seat, forgetting where he’d misplaced his notes and textbook for the answers.

  • Should flock together?Ika Blackburn [Draco], Sun Dec 15 04:45
    Now that she was in her seventh year and they were doing even cooler magic, Ika had started to enjoy Spellwork a lot more. She was even thinking about becoming an Animagus—it seemed like the sort of... more
    • Do we have the same feathers? — Niccolò York {Draco}, Thu Jan 2 18:16
      • I think we’re two of a kindIka, Thu Jan 2 23:11
        “Hey.” Ika grinned. She’d been a bit worried about Nicco all semester—except during Draco’s Quidditch practices, he’d been sort of weird. The first few times she’d assumed it was sleep deprivation or ... more
        • Too sexy for our shirts?Niccolò, Fri Jan 3 00:35
          Niccolò flipped through the textbook, dark eyes flashing with piqued interest, grazing the hasty scrawl of inky notes that he’d left in the margins, trying to find a clue to the answer he sought.... more
          • I’d rather keep my shirt onIka, Fri Jan 3 01:29
            “Well, it has to be real. I guess it’s like, the opposite of Vanishing things. So wherever stuff goes when you Vanish it… is the same place that stuff comes from when you conjure?” This was the part... more
            • Then I dunno what we have in common.Niccolò, Fri Jan 3 02:29
              “Like an alternate plane of existence where everything that’s ever been vanished is stored?” Niccolò wasn’t sure if that was exactly what she meant, but it sounded cool. “So everything imaginable has ... more
              • “No, I was thinking more like—like clay?” Ika wasn’t sure it made sense, so she elaborated. “Like it… it’s just unformed stuff on the alternate plane or whatever. And when you conjure, pull it back... more
                • How smooth do you think I think I am?Niccolò, Fri Jan 3 05:41
                  “A world of clay.” Niccolò’s tongue darted out, licking off the chocolate still lingering at the corners of his mouth. “A world of limitless imagination. That sounds kind of incredible. Imagine if... more
                  • You think you’re a smooth criminalIka, Fri Jan 3 19:59
                    Ika considered Nicco’s take on the theory. “Well, I think,” she said, “you’d just turn into—into the clay, if you ended up there. Like the rest of things. You don’t get to be Prometheus and sculpt a... more
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