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 like a tumour,, rosier, please and thank you.
John Homme
Posted: Jan 30 2011, 01:23 PM


played by taylor -------------------- 7th year
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Group: Ravenclaw
Posts: 795
Member No.: 55
Joined: 30-January 11



The prospect of his NEWTS, even if they were almost an entire academic year away, was enough to carry him to the library on a Saturday morning. Besides the fact that he really didn't mind studying anyway, the weather was rather inclement, and because of this, he wouldn't be caught dead wandering the grounds. It was a cold, soggy September day, just the type that John was positive he would never become accustomed to. In fact, he was unsure that he wanted to. So, armed with a sweater (which only had one paint stain on it, near the left pocket) and rather thick socks, he had made his way to the library.

A lover of reading, he didn't often feel much stress from studying. This, of course, was probably due to an disinclination toward procrastinating. As a matter of fact, there were no exams in sight, and still, John Homme sat alone at a small table in the library. History of Magic notes were spread out in front of him, some dangerously close to tipping off the edge and onto the floor.

The layout of his detailed notes and painstakingly completed study guides, strangely enough, gave off both an impression of chaos and order. They were placed apparently helter-skelter all around, overlapping and some crumpled; nearly every sheet had some sort of half-finished sketch on it, sometimes with writing over it. However, if one was to look a bit closer at the mess, he would discover that there was an order to it - a chronological one, that is. Each piece of parchment was unfailingly dated, and they laid out in what appeared to be a messy arc, starting on the second of September, spanning to yesterday's - the nineteenth of September.

For some, sitting still and studying for two hours was a feat - but for John, it seemed a pleasure. However, even a patient young man such as him has his limits. It wasn't frustration with his studies that drove him away, surprisingly enough (surprising because he was presently elbow deep in dates regarding the Goblin rebellions), but the nervousness that had begun to overtake his thoughts. He simply couldn't focus anymore. For the entirety of the day, he'd gone without a single cigarette; and though he wasn't feeling particularly testy, he was quite on edge. Finally, he resigned himself. Taking his time with it (if his notes weren't in order, he was sure he'd lose a few pages), he began placing his things in his bag.

It wasn't long though, before he was taking long-legged strides down the hallway, bag slung over his shoulder and across his chest. Luckily, he was already on the fourth floor - the same floor as his most frequented lavatory. The reason it was so popular, of course, was that it was easy to smoke in. From a perch on the sink, he was able to smoke out of a small window. Though he didn't relish the idea of getting that cold - well, sacrifices had to be made to calm his nerves.

And, after a walk that felt much too long, it was in this familiar seating arrangement he currently found himself. A small struggle took place between him and the increasingly stubborn window before he was able to unlatch it. Actually opening the thing was another story entirely, and it was another few moments before it slowly pushed open, issuing a rather loud and hair-raising screech in the process. A rare expression of distaste took over his features, and he muttered, "Jesus," in what could only have been a reply to the window's sound.

After patting himself down for the cigarette he could've sworn he'd placed behind his ear, he found it in the pocket of his shirt, and retrieved it. A muted and tame muttering of incendio produced a flame. Even John had to admit that the flame was a bit much, but - well, it'd do in a pinch. It wasn't as though he had any matches on him. With only a moment of wincing and hesitation, he scooted himself closer to the window. One finite and two drags later, his hands were slightly trembling. Though it could very well have been nicotine, the young man instead attributed it to the cold, and tugged with a free hand at the sweater, in a fruitless attempt to keep warm. He just wasn't made for this type of weather, he decided.


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Foras Rosier
Posted: Jan 30 2011, 02:03 PM


played by bez -------------------- 6th year
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Group: Slytherin
Posts: 587
Member No.: 16
Joined: 20-January 11



A morning spent in the charming company of his Muggle Studies class had left Foras feeling at his brightest and breeziest, even if the lingering guilt over his interest in the subject was trying its best to overshadow his mood. His class was refreshingly free of the kind of Slytherin he was constantly being called upon to reprimand, even if it was full of the more rowdy types of pupil Hogwarts had to offer, and so it had been a lovely break away from damage control and a better chance to, however briefly, escape the pressures of the gang. Walpurgis may have been his main interest and where the vast majority of his better times were spent, but it was also a group fraught with complication and incandescent rage - mostly in the form of Avery's uncontrollable mouth and twitchy wand hand. Rosier, therefore, had a vested interest in occasionally escaping the trials and tribulations of his fellows and taking some time out specifically for himself - and that was exactly what he intended now. It was even marked in his diary.

Because he felt uncomfortable if he had not previously created schedules he had already decided that he was going to spend a few hours writing essays on the current muggle situation in the library; he rarely got time to indulge his passion for the other race's philosophy and history, so he liked to make the most of it and write impassioned letters to be sent to muggle newspapers when he did. Very few of them actually ever made it into print - muggles didn't use owls very often, who knew? - but he found the exercise cathartic and a way of quietly asserting his own personality that didn't infringe on Walpurgis or his goals to remain under the radar. It was much safer than torturing other students, even if it was a considerably larger crime against his reputation.

As he scribbled detailed commentaries on the motivations of the Nazis and the onward march of the Soviets, Rosier became slowly aware of the organised chaos that was Homme's presence. Off-hand he had no idea who the other young man was - unusual, as Rosier usually liked to pride himself on knowing everyone there was to know - except that he was loosely connected to the Slug Club. He had the vague idea that he'd seen him once or twice at the parties Slughorn threw, but that he hadn't thought much of him at the time. His curiosity was piqued; not bothering to follow up something he did not know was hardly his style. A sneaked glance at the work surrounding the slightly older student only really made it worse - the few sketches he could see demonstrated John's considerable talent and Foras had always admired art. It was, he suspected, a pureblood thing. Muggleborns were generally too coarse and unrefined to appreciate beauty.

So when John got up to leave, Rosier found himself packing his things even slower, determined to follow and perhaps catch him in conversation; he reasoned that the other boy might have some hidden talent besides art that would be useful to Riddle. At no point did he consider that perhaps he was following his hormones, but they were buried so deep within him that they could barely be acknowledged, and so he could be forgiven for not noticing.

Perhaps slightly embarrassed when his slow, careful following brought him to a bathroom, Foras lingered outside for some time, determined to make it look entirely like a coincidence that they had both been in the library and were now in the same bathroom. Part of him wondered whether it was an entirely proper place for a confrontation, but he supposed if things were too awkward then he could simply leave and pretend nothing had ever run through his mind. Certainly that scenario would give him enough time to find out about the other man and satiate his curiosity as to why he had never really noticed him before now; it was a win-win situation.

When he finally did push the door open and interrupt, however, he was both slightly dismayed and slightly pleased to have caught him smoking. His prefect badge was all the indication needed that this had the potential to be an unpleasant encounter; student smoking was generally not tolerated at Hogwarts. Rather, however, than snap or jeer as perhaps other Slytherins could have been expected to do, he simply walked to the sink next to Homme and began running the water, waiting for it to warm up so he could wash his hands - they were covered in ink.

"I need not tell you it's frowned upon to smoke in the bathrooms, hm?" He asked, his voice even and deadpan as he turned slightly raised eyebrows and cool - but not cold - blue eyes to John. "What's your name?"


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John Homme
Posted: Jan 30 2011, 03:21 PM


played by taylor -------------------- 7th year
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Group: Ravenclaw
Posts: 795
Member No.: 55
Joined: 30-January 11



As always, the Ravenclaw had gone about his rule-breaking like a bull in a china shop. While most people would have made more of an effort toward ensuring that the room was empty, John had merely glanced under the stalls - and not even paying any particular attention. Needless to say, the Prefect that was following him did not even register. This was not entirely surprising though; even if Foras had been tramping a few feet behind him, plain as the nose on his face, it was unlikely that he would've turned. His mind was elsewhere, as it usually was.

While it may have been that Homme had slipped under Rosier's radar, the same could not be said likewise. Like the other, he tended to have some knowledge about nearly everyone he came across, though it was hardly through conscious effort. Put simply, he had a habit of watching those around him. He studied everyone, and Rosier was anything but an exception. As a matter of fact, Homme could vaguely recall watching as the other had entered the library just a bit ago, taking a break from his silent studying to - well, to blatantly stare at him. He took in the purposeful way the other walked. The way his uniform, hair and general person was well kepmt in a way that was almost foreign to John. The rather serious set to his face, as though he hadn't the time to be anything besides. And, perhaps least importantly, he noticed the shining Prefect badge that was pinned to his chest.

One would've thought that the badge had become a great deal more important when the boy walked in on him openly breaking school rules, but one clearly didn't take into account just how absent-minded John Homme could be. When the other entered, all he could focus on was his precarious position - he nearly slipped off the sink in surprise. Both hands automatically moved back to brace him, though perhaps not as spastically as they could have. The feeling of embarrassment was immediate, and only grew as the other took a place beside him to wash ink off of his hands. Heat crept up his neck slowly and horribly, and he tried to offer a feeble smile.

The boy he recognized as Foras Rosier had always been something to be intimidated by. Though he was distantly aware that he was a Prefect, it still was not his primary reason. He was also Pureblooded, and seven years at Hogwarts had not neglected to teach him to feel at least uncomfortable in their presence. He could only hear the word mudblood so many times before it became apparent that he should not be mixing with that type. Along with a Pureblood, he was also one of the larger of the boys who ran with his group; his silent thoughts that size had anything to do with how harmful a bloke was were misguided in the wizarding world. It was a difference hadn't quite gotten the hang of, even after all this time.

But with him up so close and looking directly at him, John had to reevaluate his initial impressions of the sixth year. Previous to this day, his observations had been contained to body-language: he wanted to see how he interacted with his friends. With Lestrange and Riddle and Avery and the like, who could all seen standing around together at Slughorn's little parties. And earlier, on a rare occasion that he'd seen him on his own, his focus had been mainly on expression - on the novelty of such gravity on a face so young. But now he was staring him directly in the face, and found himself fascinated. Completely unrestrained, he took in the other's features - the curve of his cheekbone, the almost skeptical expression brought about by nothing but a minute movement of his eyebrows, the colour of his eyes, and really, everything about his face that he could take in - and could feel the heat rise a bit more because of it. Even he was aware that his stares could be unsettling. Knowing that his cheeks were probably flushing, he furrowed his eyebrows and instead broke eye-contact in a rather shy gesture to examine his cigarette and listen. Good. It hadn't gone out.

With the light comment came the revelation - ahh, he was a Prefect. Being caught in the act of rule-breaking by a Prefect would've likely made him go pink if he weren't already. At the realization, he sucked in his lower lip momentarily to fumble for a reply. Though he took another drag to stall for time, one that could've been misconstrued as defiant by someone who wasn't looking closely enough, the option of lying to him didn't cross his mind for a moment. "Err, Homme," his voice came out rather quietly, and he glanced at him sideways rather curiously. It was rather difficult to look away, truth be told; vaguely, he was aware of the fact that he should really like to paint the other, or at least draw him. Those eyes. Belatedly, he continued, "John Homme. And you're - eh, Foras Rosier?"


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Foras Rosier
Posted: Jan 30 2011, 03:51 PM


played by bez -------------------- 6th year
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Group: Slytherin
Posts: 587
Member No.: 16
Joined: 20-January 11



As he slowly scrubbed the ink from his hands, Foras watched the seventh year with a similar kind of intensity. It felt very strange to be so nakedly watched by someone who should have known that he was below him - doubly strange when he considered that Homme wasn't even the kind of loud, defiant mudblood who usually were out to prove something by showing that they were both shameless and unrefined in their jibes. He tolerated it because it gave him a chance to watch the other straight back again, to study the slightly bruised looking eye sockets and the minutely discoloured whites of his eyes. Finding, despite the odds, despite everything, that there was something singularly interesting about John's look and mannerisms, he decided not to take offence to the outright staring, or even to raise it in conversation. The blush dictated, if nothing else, that the potential defiance of taking another drag of the cigarette was not so; rather, Rosier suspected it was something of a defence mechanism.

It was almost sweet, the way Homme hadn't even noticed that he was a prefect until after he was done staring. Rosier dried off his hands carefully on a nearby towel, folding his arms over his chest and observing the other boy with the same gravity he observed everything. His eyes flicked up and down, taking Homme in properly, and if he'd been more impulsive, he might have snatched the cigarette away. Instead, he kept his face carefully neutral even as Homme's knowledge of his name impressed him a little - he was usually only known as a prefect or perhaps for the other big names he hung around with. Sure, everyone knew his face, but only those who actually paid attention would have known his name - and Homme hardly seemed like he'd be the type to pay attention. His accent also made a faint impression on him; Rosier found he kind of liked the lilting French of it.

His eyebrows remained slightly raised as he studied John again, making sure there was a small, almost uncomfortable pause between their speech.
"John Homme," he repeated, evenly. "Well, Homme, while I should hand out a detention, perhaps I could waive it this once. Is this yours?" He withdrew a single piece of paper that he had appropriated in the library; it had fluttered just out of sight of the other boy as he had left. It was less notes and more just several scribbled sketches. Glancing over it, he smoothed the paper and held it out. "You're quite talented." It was deadpan and flat, but it was high praise from Rosier.

Holding out the paper, he took the moment of distraction as an opportunity to study the other boy's face again in a much more discrete manner. There was certainly something there that were strangely attractive. Perhaps it was the fact that he was worlds away from the dark, hidden or just plain sadistic faces of his compatriots from Slytherin. Perhaps it was the fact that he had no idea yet that the other boy was a muggleborn. Perhaps it was simply his hormones acting up; in any case, Rosier mentally shook himself and focused back on Homme's eyes. That, as it turned out, did not make the slight attraction any better.


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John Homme
Posted: Jan 30 2011, 05:35 PM


played by taylor -------------------- 7th year
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Group: Ravenclaw
Posts: 795
Member No.: 55
Joined: 30-January 11



John was not used to people looking back for more than a few moments, because usually the way he stared was embarrassing for the other party. But not for Rosier, it appeared. In fact, there wasn't a thing about him that seemed less than perfectly composed. He gave no hint of discomfort whatsoever. Instead, he had apparently elected to let John experience his own share of it as well as Rosier's. Not wanting to agitate the other, he leaned his face toward the window to exhale the smoke, hand waving at it just to be positive that it didn't blow back in.

As the other repeated his name, he silently took note of his speaking voice. It was quiet, even, intelligent. Really, he wasn't entirely sure that a voice could sound intelligent. But if they could, Rosier's certainly did. Actually, it only added to John's impression that the other was very well put together. But, as Homme was focused so heavily on his intonation, annunciation and the movements of his mouth as he spoke, it came as no surprise that his words had little meaning for a few short seconds. It wasn't until he stopped speaking that he glanced up from his mouth, this time much less sheepish for his staring.

However, his discomfort increased tenfold when the parchment was held out, and he stiffened slightly. The recognition of his drawing style style and the sweeping script was anything but pleasant. His stomach sank slightly at the sight of it, and his free hand clenched just barely from its benign position, rested on a thigh. Knowing that the other had been looking at his drawings was nearly as bad as it felt to be caught smoking by the same boy.

At his question as to whether it was his, he breathed a barely audible yes, even at the other continued speaking. Ha. To top it off, this boy was complimenting his drawing. Though he made no effort to correct him, he hastily replied, "Just a sketch." For a moment, he was afraid to take the parchment from him, and so it simply laid out between them, like some sort of visual aid to illustrate just how close they were to one another.

Moving away would have involved stepping down though, and John was quite sure that he would have had to move even nearer to do that, and so he remained on the sink. Despite not having felt awkward in the position before, he did now, and silently wished that he had been just standing when the other came in. Their proximity was already distracting; John was having a hell of a time not staring at him still. It wasn't long before he was, more or less, just looking at him again, though his expression held a great deal more unease than it had initially. Without breaking eye-contact, he timidly reached out to take the parchment, and nodded his thanks.

Thanks for what, he didn't know. For making him uncomfortable? For nearly threatening him with detention? But really, he supposed, Rosier was in the right. He was breaking school rules, after all. The Slytherin was just doing his prefectural duties in reprimanding him. Really, he should've actually gone ahead and given him the detention.

Even with all the serious thoughts that should have been lingering, Homme couldn't help his mind wandering. Rosier's features, serious though they currently were, had captivated him. There was no other word for it; he found himself unable to keep from staring. Before he knew it, he was speaking again, voice a great deal less even and understandable than Foras's. "Ehh, I paint, you know. Or you probably didn't," he amended sheepishly, and, with a pang of horror, could feel himself beginning to warm up into rambling. "Anyway, I do portraits," he continued, voice nearly an octave higher with nerves. "Well, lot of the time I would paint landscapes, but not since we've moved to England." He could hear himself babbling, and yet couldn't stop. He couldn't just leave it at that, "London's just not...the same. But eh, those are just sketches."

While he hadn't stopped himself from vomiting out a great deal of information that the other could doubtlessly had gone without, he had been able to stop before saying anything truly embarrassing. Christ, at least he hadn't asked to paint him.

Although...


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Foras Rosier
Posted: Jan 31 2011, 12:52 AM


played by bez -------------------- 6th year
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Group: Slytherin
Posts: 587
Member No.: 16
Joined: 20-January 11



POST OF SHIT RUSHED BEFORE WORK

The marked pause between speech and acknowledgement that John seemed to have was amusing Rosier in a kind of way that he recognised would usually annoy him; he put down his unusual charity to his unusually good mood. Tolerating the pause, he found himself analysing the strange tension between them when he held out the drawing. From the look and sound of it, Mr. Homme didn't take well to being complimented on his art. This surprised Rosier slightly - he had assumed that any praise from him would be taken as extremely sincere. Still, he didn't allow it to phase him, and when Homme finally took the drawing he withdrew his hand slowly, returning it to lounge across his chest. Every one of his movements was carefully controlled; he wasn't the kind of person to do anything without first thinking about it.

The slight nod from the other boy almost prompted a half-smile to rest across Rosier's features, but of course it was hardly appropriate or the pureblood's style, and so he banished it before it could arrive. The Ravenclaw was clearly finding being in his presence to be something of a trial, but he wasn't inclined to break it off for him. He was enjoying himself, surprisingly, and having Homme to look at wasn't exactly hurting that; neither was listening to the slightly French ramblings that were leaving his lips. He knew he probably shouldn't be spending more than five minutes watching someone like this, but it wasn't causing anyone any harm, and he was allowed his short time to himself. Merlin knew he deserved it every once in a while.

"From France?" He asked, pleasantly, when Homme had stopped his ramblings. His voice was as flat and controlled as ever, but he at least sounded interested. "We holiday there occasionally; family over there." His surname, of course, was French, even if he was not. "Well, before all of this," he made a small gesture that managed, somehow, to convey the entire muggle war. His mind turned over the commentary about the painting and he found himself curious to see the rest of Homme's artwork. If it was as good as the sketches had indicated it might be, he might even be a candidate for the employ of his parents.

"So you're moving more into portraiture since you've lost the landscapes," he began, slowly, obviously thinking about something. "I can hardly say I blame you; England seems to be mostly castles and corn fields. Who do you paint? Presumably Slughorn, unless you have talents in more than one area." He didn't smile but he managed to give the impression of smiling. It was an impressive feat. He'd noticed Homme looking at him again, of course, and now he wondered a little whether the light was falling on him in a particularly artistically interesting way - the staring made moderately more sense now. It was lucky, really, that he'd admitted to painting - otherwise Rosier might have thought him a particularly strange simpleton.


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John Homme
Posted: Feb 1 2011, 02:27 AM


played by taylor -------------------- 7th year
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Group: Ravenclaw
Posts: 795
Member No.: 55
Joined: 30-January 11



In the wake of his inane little speech, he could feel his confidence slowly dwindling; who really wanted to hear about his hobbies? Feeling quite stupid (more so than he already had so far, anyway), he forced himself to look away. After letting out a breath, his posture relaxed slightly, and he returned to his unbecoming slouch against the mirror. The paper rested in his lap, and he found himself looking at it. Trying to mentally take a step back, he wondered what the other must have thought of it - it was clearly not his best work. He regretted that it had been what the other had found.

Then again, it wasn't as though he left finished portraits lying around - er, wherever he found this.

He had opened his mouth just hardly to ask when he heard a polite inquiry. A now-predictable pause between the question and answer hung in the air for a moment. The other informed him that he occasionally vacationed in France before all of this - he presumed that to mean before any invasion or occupation had occurred. A familiar sinking sensation in his stomach made him want to change the subject - thinking of home always made him sick. "Ah, yes. French," he confirmed. For a moment, he considered expanding on this to include his hometown, but thought better of it. Perhaps, if Rosier asked, he would tell him about Hérault; presently, he was pretty sure that it would've ended up another humiliating and broken rant.

As he commented on the - er, landscapes that England had to offer, he felt a small, crooked smile tugging at his mouth, despite everything. As far as he'd seen, England was mostly comprised of bleak and dirty streets. Of course, this opinion was based entirely of the small area of the country he knew: a few square blocks in London. Just when the tiny smile was beginning to fade, the mention of a portrait of Slughorn renewed it. Despite his initial misgivings, this Rosier boy really seemed polite. Charming, even.

Okay, well that may have been a stretch. But he did have very nice eyes.

"Yes, he's - ehh, asked for one before," he said with a nod, and felt nervous laughter bubbling up. With a hard swallow, he forced it back down, and brought his free hand up to tuck a stray piece hair behind his ear. A sudden thought interrupted his thought though, and he hesitated to continue.

It was then that he remembered the neglected cigarette in his hand, which needed ashed badly and was wasting away; despite having discovered that Rosier was a Prefect, it had apparently him quite a while to realize that being caught was his cue to put the cigarette out. Smile gone entirly now, he sheepishly glanced up at Rosier. After several moments of eye-contact, he did hesitantly decided to get rid of it, and not without quite a bit of regret. Really, it seemed a waste. He was already caught, after all, and what was the harm in finishing it? However, he figured that it was only appropriate.

"Eh, sorry," he said quickly, motioning at the cigarette, which ended up ashing on his pant leg because of the movement. He seemed not to notice though, because he made no movement to brush it off. Quietly, he shifted, careful to keep his balance as he flicked the not yet half-finished cigarette out the window and set about to closing it. In yet another embarrassing display, he gave it a good hard yank; it offered minimal give. Following this, he almost gave up, letting his hands drop to his lap. But, as he turned to look at the other again, he realized that perhaps that it would be more embarrassing to give up halfway through. Again, he raised his arms to give it another go, this time using his weight.

"I've even tried," he added vaguely as he pulled, jaw clenching slightly. Finally, with a reprise of the earlier screech, the window gave, and John found himself nearly falling into the sink clumsily. However, he was able to catch himself a second time with a hand braced behind him. Deciding to continue speaking, perhaps to avoid thinking of how embarrassed he should be, he turned to fix the other with a look once again. "I just can't seem to," he paused, thinking. "To...get into it. There are some people who just..." He trailed off, his eyes straying again to the drawing in his lap. To say that some people didn't strike him sounded off, and he pressed his lips together. "Who just aren't interesting to look at. I mean, everyone is - just not to paint, yes?" he pressed on, wondering if he was rambling again.

"I should like to-" he stopped himself. His next thought seemed random, almost like a non sequitur, and it hung awkwardly and heavily after he said it. "I mean, you've got an interesting bone structure - a lot of," he grasped for the right word. "Visual interest?" he finished, voice lifting at the end, as though unsure of himself. Without looking up, he could tell that what he'd said was more than odd. Some kind of misguided and backwards compliment hanging in the air, he wondered with no small amount of dread how the other would react. For the first time, he hoped for laughter from a Slytherin.


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Foras Rosier
Posted: Feb 1 2011, 04:55 AM


played by bez -------------------- 6th year
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Group: Slytherin
Posts: 587
Member No.: 16
Joined: 20-January 11



The little smile he'd apparently prompted pleased him in a fashion he could not entirely rationalise to himself; he decided not to try. There were some faucets of his personality that could stay entirely self-contained - and that was fine. It wasn't like they'd ever break through to the surface and completely ruin his life.

So Slughorn had indeed noticed him for his talent - well, no big loss, he was sure Riddle's gang would be unreceptive to the idea of using a Ravenclaw anyway, even one so absent-minded as John. Ravenclaws had a certain intelligence to them that tended to be too self-serving and clear-headed to involve too deeply in matters of Slytherin import. Finding himself lingering despite the lack of usefulness, Rosier watched as Homme's smile faded away as he glanced between his cigarette and himself. He held his gaze with slightly amusedly raised eyebrows (though of course the expression was so subtle that it was near impossible to tell) as he ashed all over his trousers and threw the spent cigarette out of the window. For all that he was usually a stickler for rules, he wouldn't have pressed things if John had kept the cigarette; it wasn't as though Minevra was likely to walk into the male toilets and reprimand him and Ignatius probably wouldn't even have noticed the rule breaking in the first place.

He waved a hand at the apology as he carefully watched the other young man strain himself to close the window. It wasn't exactly an unpleasant sight; he didn't lift so much as a finger to help him, faintly enjoying the exertion he was sure he could have solved in a moment if he had only thought to use his wand. As the boy almost tipped himself into the sink Foras was very tempted to comment, but decided this would be both out of character and make the situation considerably more awkward; in any case, Homme was speaking again, and he found the strange lilt to his words and his habit of forgetting what he was saying half-way through as fascinating as he found it irritating.

"Yes, I understand," he replied, after another moment of thought. He tended, as a pureblood, to find exceptional beauty rather unremarkable and normal; he much preferred slightly unconvential looking people, if he had to push. The heavy hint that he might like to paint Rosier, however, took him slightly by surprise; he hadn't expected him to be so forward. Still, he quickly warmed to the idea. Even if he had never particularly considered himself to be anything other than a regularly attractive pureblood, he found that he was intrigued by the idea that John saw something in his... bone structure.

Laughter, therefore, did not come; instead there was a slow appraisal as he turned it over in his mind. "Well," he began, carefully. "Mother and Father have been meaning to have me sit for a portrait; it would be extremely useful to be able to go about the chore between my lessons rather than having to go home or to Hogsmeade." And, of course, lurking far beneath the conscious mind, there was the vague desire to be able to see both John's aptitude for painting and, well... Perhaps he had better not go there. "I could view some examples some time? Before I write home to let them know the good news, of course. I'm sure they'll pay you handsomely."


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John Homme
Posted: Feb 1 2011, 05:50 AM


played by taylor -------------------- 7th year
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Group: Ravenclaw
Posts: 795
Member No.: 55
Joined: 30-January 11



When Rosier actually took a moment to mull over the near-offer, dark eyes stole a glance. Or, well, intended to steal. What really happened was that John began to look at him again, feeling painfully aware of how much he had been looking around the whole time. He didn't know when it was appropriate to keep looking or to turn away; then again, the same could be said of most of the interactions that he took part in. Either he felt like he was staring or like he was avoiding eyecontact - there was no middle-ground, it seemed.

The fact that he'd accepted was unreal enough, particularly when he brought his parents into the equation. John had his doubts that his parents would've wanted to pay a Muggleborn to paint their son - or whether they'd want him to paint him at all. However, he elected to keep his comments and skepticism on the matter to himself. If Rosier wasn't going to bring up blood, John sure as hell wasn't about to go asking for the insult.

On top of the blood issue, there was the question of his level of talent. It was clear that the other had genuinely seen something in the sketches, even if John didn't. The thought of showing Rosier actual paintings, pieces that he was proud of, filled him simultaneously with dread and delight. While he maintained a generally modest persona, there were, of course, some pieces that he was quite proud of.

"Eh?" Incredulity tinted the syllable, and he leaned forward just slightly, almost as though they were conspiring. His eyebrows drew together slightly, a crease forming between them as he nearly frowned. Feeling as though he had a lot to process all at once, he hesitated on where to begin. "You want to pay for my painting?" But really, this was not the most intriguing or even surprising aspect of the new development. He continued, not leaving him much room for a reply between questions. "You want a portrait, then?" Still, he seemed not to believe him. John was speaking faster than he normally would've, making his accent slightly less comprehensible than usual.

Despite his usually self-conscious and modest nature, he found himself rather keen on the idea of letting Rosier see his work. It was one thing, after all, that he was sure he was good at. Again, without much of a pause, he spoke. "And of course you could - ehh, take a look at my portfolio before you decided," he said. He was hesitant to call it such when really, it was more so a stack of canvases under his bed, accompanied by several full sketchbooks. One could hardly call that anything but untidiness, as his dormitory mates had pointed out on more than one occasion.


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Foras Rosier
Posted: Feb 1 2011, 09:11 AM


played by bez -------------------- 6th year
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Group: Slytherin
Posts: 587
Member No.: 16
Joined: 20-January 11



Taking his eyes off John a moment to instead study his nails, Rosier thought and rethought this little... well, whatever it was. He couldn't see anything particularly bad coming from having a brief look at a young man's artwork and sitting in on portrait sessions if he did indeed prove to be talented. The fact he was a Ravenclaw was actually helpful, in a way; a Slytherin would be far too suspect and the other Walpurgis members were likely to raise their eyebrows and sneer at any of the other, lesser houses. But Ravenclaw had a respectability about it that he doubted the rest of the group would sneer at; it had either not yet occurred to him to question blood purity, or he had simply decided to ignore the part of his brain that was demanding it. Unlike the rest of his fellows, Rosier wasn't so much a purist as a sadist; he found just as much pleasure in subjugating his peers as he did those 'lesser' than him.

Glancing back up at the offer of portfolio viewing, having only inclined his head twice to Homme's mostly rhetorical questions, Rosier unfolded his arms and adjusted his shirt.
"Certainly," he replied, calmly, maintaining eye contact again and finding that he really enjoyed the semi-nervous awkward look on Homme's face. He withdrew a small book from his pocket, conjuring a quill out of thin air without saying a word and sorting carefully, slowly through the pages of the schedule book. It was his 'public' book; he knew his 'private' schedule by heart in any case. This one wouldn't cause problems if anyone were to find it. "I'm next free tomorrow during fourth period. Is that workable for you or should I choose another, better time for the both of us?"

He stood poised to erase the fourth period revision period he'd set up tomorrow; his schedule was packed to burst with varying meetings with shady characters, professors, lessons, and moments of respite. The revision sessions were some of the few times he could convince himself tha the could afford to miss.


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John Homme
Posted: Feb 1 2011, 03:21 PM


played by taylor -------------------- 7th year
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Group: Ravenclaw
Posts: 795
Member No.: 55
Joined: 30-January 11



His one word answer to his questions did little to put him at ease. Still, he was leaned forward slightly, physically expressing that this conversation had his undivided attention. And really, for a boy who was so often lost in his own thoughts, it was rather a sight to behold. His eyes were unclouded and engaged, looking especially round with the bruise-like circles underneath. With a calm and cool certainly, Rosier had apparently finalized it. It was something that he had to admire, given his own normally indecisive and passive nature; what must it be like to be so assured? While he was interested in the content of their discussion, he couldn't shake his habit: he was still observing him, as though from the outside. Dark eyes, though alert and attentive, also had a way of appearing set back from everything all at once.

John watched him benignly as he pulled out the book, head cocked just slightly to the side. For him, the idea of a schedule so detailed was a foreign one - foreign enough, in fact, to take a few moments to recognize the book for what it was. In an effortless (and rather impressive, John thought) display of Charms work, he had summoned a quill as well and was beginning to flip gingerly through the pages, examining carefully the dates and times. Curious, he couldn't help leaning just a tad closer, eyes fixed downward; being that busy must have been hell, he thought.

Having become so focused on catching the title of a block of time, the question made him look up sharply. Initially, it was almost like the sensation of being asked something too fast, and he could feel an instinctual no on the tip of his tongue. However, after a bit of silent thought, he recalled his schedule more clearly and gave a show nod. "Tomorrow would be fine," he began, voice edged slightly with nervousness still. In the pause between this statement and the next, he caught himself nearly wringing his hands before he stopped himself. Fidgeting, he often found, was more annoying than almost any other habit. "I have Charms the period before - it would work out well," he waved a hand, gesturing vaguely. Nodding again, more to himself than to Rosier, he continued, "I've been working on animating a few there," he explained. "I've got a few pieces down there already."


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Foras Rosier
Posted: Feb 2 2011, 06:00 AM


played by bez -------------------- 6th year
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Group: Slytherin
Posts: 587
Member No.: 16
Joined: 20-January 11



Noticing Homme's practically obscene curiosity about his schedule, Rosier didn't bother to draw it closer to his chest or out of sight; he had a private book for a reason. The only thing that perhaps bothered him slightly was the fact that it brought their heads almost uncomfortably close. He couldn't quite drag his eyes away from John's face or take a step back - there was a certain awkwardness to the whole thing, as though it were a dance and they'd both forgotten the appropriate steps, leaving them hovering nearby but with no idea of how to proceed. It made it a little easier that the other man was too busy trying to catch a glance of his book to keep eye contact, but that seemed to be ruined as soon as he asked his question and Homme looked straight up. The few inches of air between them seemed somehow strained, but Rosier clenched his jaw ever so slightly more and decided he was imagining it. It will simply not do to interfere right now, he told his hormones, sternly, but they didn't appear to pay him much attention; Homme's eyes were fascinating.

It was Rosier, therefore, who was behind the pause in conversation this time. Uncharacteristically he had briefly - very briefly - slightly slipped in control. It took him perhaps half a second to bring himself back up to speed. Nodding and turning his head sideways to cough into a fist, he took the opportunity to take a subtle step back. The wider proximity, though it was perhaps only an inch more than they'd had before, gave him more room to breathe and the slightest strain that had been in his movements faded out again. Making sure that he had complete control over himself again before he continued, he brushed a single hair that had broken off from the rest out of his face.

"Oh, really?" Back up to speed, he found himself interested. He'd only very briefly looked over the magic necessary to enchant a painting (he was neither an artist nor did he think that particular charm would come in useful to his work), but it had seemed highly complex. "Fascinating. It always seemed like an extremely difficult piece of magic to pull off; perhaps you could show me how far you've gotten with it, or how one goes about it." He was being much friendlier and talkative than he usually was - this kind of slight openness and willingness to say more than a few words should by all rights have been setting off massive alarm bells in his head, but somehow it was just not happening. The part of him that would have been silent and stoic was deeply uncomfortable, but it wouldn't be until later, when he actually thought about this exchange in detail, that he'd notice.

Finishing neatly printing John Homme's name and the exact date and time of their meeting into his schedule book, he closed it quietly and slipped it back into his pocket. The quill vanished again; Rosier's favourite way of spending his time, aside from planning every aspect of his day (he actually had whole chunks set aside just for planning), was practicing nonverbal and wandless magic. He was getting rather good at both, even if he could only do very small tricks like that when he had neither words nor wand. Having stored away his things and moved a little back, Foras now felt more than happy to return eye contact and fold his arms over his chest once more.


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John Homme
Posted: Feb 2 2011, 12:17 PM


played by taylor -------------------- 7th year
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Group: Ravenclaw
Posts: 795
Member No.: 55
Joined: 30-January 11



Though there was still a decided lack of confidence behind his words, his initial reaction had nearly faded completely. As a matter of fact, he hardly felt any discomfort at being so close; his mind was otherwise occupied when they made eye-contact. Vaguely he wondered if the colour of his eyes could have the same impact, looking out from a canvas. He hoped so. At this point, most of the intimidation he had initially experienced was gone - or at least it had been shoved to the back of his mind to make room for the growing excitement. Based on a few sketches, many half-finished and abandoned out of frustration, Rosier was suggesting that he might want to pay for John's work.

The idea simultaneously frayed his nerves and made it difficult not to smile. On one hand, the Slytherin apparently saw a great deal of talent in him. That, for whatever reason, tickled John a significant amount more than Slughorn's flattering commentary on his work. He might have wondered at this, had he not also been feeling somewhat tight in the chest over it. What if, when he presented his work to Rosier, it was ill-received? He could practically see it now, the other unimpressed and telling him to just nevermind.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hardly noticed the slip in Rosier's composure; presently, he was a bit more distracted by a combination of looking at the other's eyes and his inner conflict over the whole thing. Much to his surprise though, he found that he was still engaged enough to immediately reply, nodding a bit as he finally leaned back to his previous position against the mirror.

"It is," he confirmed, accent somehow coating even the disyllabic reply. "I haven't managed it yet," he had to admit hesitantly, voice stalling, gesturing a bit as he spoke. "I think I'm close though. It's just a very complicated charm," he said, and realized belatedly that he was being repetitive. "It's really interesting to read about, though," he added reflectively and admittedly unnecessarily, grasping for the correct wording toward the end, "how it's done and - ehhh, their state of being."


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Foras Rosier
Posted: Feb 2 2011, 02:26 PM


played by bez -------------------- 6th year
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Group: Slytherin
Posts: 587
Member No.: 16
Joined: 20-January 11



More than a little relieved that Homme hadn't noticed the slip - he'd never have lived it down if it had been pointed out - Rosier gave a sharp nod and allowed a mildly thoughtful expression to crease his brow.
"Well, perhaps both of us will be better equipped to puzzle it out," he offered, evenly, knowing it sounded far too friendly and yet not able to make himself bite it back. Straightening his spine a little, he tilted his head very slightly to one side to give himself an air of small nonchalance rather than the mild interest he was sure he was displaying. Yes, apparently his tongue had decided to be pleasant and social, but it didn't mean his brain wasn't rebelling against the idea; the proper part of it, in any case.

Obscenely, he could already feel himself looking forward to fourth period tomorrow; he tried to justify it to himself by telling himself that his interest was purely in seeing John's art and a particularly skilful charm being pulled off. After all, wasn't Charms fascinating? Weren't the arts something most cultured purebloods could get completely behind? It wasn't like there was a real reason for the visit and it was less than innocent, was it? Reprimanding himself strongly, he stood up straight again, unfolding his arms and placing them behind his back instead. The stiff position encouraged him to think more clearly; obviously he was only talking to Homme because the possibility of a portrait to please his parents had arisen. It was only glancing back at John's face that shook that belief slightly, and despite his less friendly position his tone remained even and perhaps even containing the hint of anticipation.

He pushed past the awkwardness of not knowing what to do with his body (it was a feeling extremely foreign to him) in order to talk again. "Yes; I've always wondered what exact state of life comes of being a portrait. Are they imbued with the souls of those they're of, in part at least? Or are they more ghostlike?" They were genuine questions, and though Rosier knew he should be going in order to put a halt to the slight attraction that was causing all of these problems, he just couldn't quite bring himself to break off conversation just yet. Just a minute more, perhaps. It wasn't like he was supposed to be anywhere but the library right now.


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John Homme
Posted: Feb 3 2011, 01:46 AM


played by taylor -------------------- 7th year
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Group: Ravenclaw
Posts: 795
Member No.: 55
Joined: 30-January 11



"Any help I could get would be - appreciated," he replied distractedly, more than a little surprised at his offer.

Though this new subject struck him particularly - he took great interest in both charms and in art - he couldn't shake the tightness in his chest. The flattery wore off quicker than his apprehension, and left him feeling only a strange fluttering sensation as he imagined how Rosier might react to his work. Even though he knew it was a bit irrational (even John was not so deluded by lack of confidence that he didn't recognize his own talent), he couldn't help the anxiety connected with the whole ordeal.

Thoughts of the hours upon hours he'd spent on those paintings, the one area that brought out an uncharacteristic attention to detail and perfectionism in him, crossed through his uneasy mind. It wasn't obvious by looking, but he rather thought that a lot of him went into each painting - that the effort forged some sort of connection. Like a protective bond. Really, it was a bit like baring your soul, wasn't it? Well, maybe more than a bit. Needless to say, he had difficulty handling criticism.

However, his interest in the other's questions thankfully overshadowed this nervousness, however temporarily. "Actually, yes," he answered, the other's interest and sincerity causing him to straighten his posture a bit. "Quite a bit like ghosts," he continued, "more a - ehhh, an impression of the person or...an imprint?" He hesitated to continue, looking a bit thoughtful. "Not entirely, ehh, sentient, you know," he added in a thoughtful tone, vaguely thinking that he wished his cigarette wasn't four floors down and getting rained on; but really, anything to fidget with would do, and so he began to pick at a pant leg. In doing this, his gaze finally left Rosier's, though without the complete awkwardness with which he had previously done so.


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