(1938-01-22) The Right Nudge
Details for The Right Nudge
Summary: Maybe he's not supposed to, but Donovan knows the things to say to inspire Eibhlin…
Date: Jan 22, 1938
Location: Workshop
Related: -

Donovan is at one of the tables, he has a piece of wood out in front of him, and his wand out. Next to him, is a notebook with a schematic on it. He has a couple of runes written on the paper but they are pretty horribly drawn. His lips are pursed in thought.

It never fails, year after year, workshops such as this one are packed with fifth years under the eyes (or not) of Prefects and elder students as they struggle their way towards those ever-important tests. Eibhlin steps in with her satchel in hand- not across her. Early preparation for setting the thing down on a table. She stops at the one next to Donovan and pulls out her Transfiguration text and a few things to work with, casting a glance towards the other Fifth year and his block of wood.

Glancing over at Evie shows up, Donovan grins, "Heya Shine." He pokes at the wood with his wand for a moment considering the block of wood. And chanting for a moment he the wood changes shape turning from a single block of wood into several smaller sticks, the edges straight and unjointed.

"Not bad," Eibhlin says with a nod to the Gryffindor's work. She settles into a chair and arranges the objects she's brought. A quill, a cup, and some chocolate frogs. Ok, maybe the last is for a snack. "I'm hoping to get at least somewhat proficient…"

Glancing over at the other sixth year Donovan smiles, "Still having Transfiguration issues?" He picks up the first of the smaller planks, examines it for a few moments and then casting another quick spell the end warps to allow a notch to appear he does the same on the other bits creating a series of sticks with joints that match up.

"Some," Eibhlin admits with a small sigh. "I find it hard to imagine all the different… layers of a thing when I go to transfigure it. Like my pig's ear purses are still made of pig's ear once they're done. Not silk." Which is rather gross when one thinks of it. She flips open the textbook and plunks an elbow on the table, chin in palm as she tries to read.

"It's like with the summoning charm… you picture what it was, what's it's gone through. The history of the thing and then…you just add another step, you picture what it is going to be what it can change to… sure you have to picture all the steps along the way… but it's just like telling a story." Donovan begins experimentally placing the bits of the shafts together they make a single unit slightly angled and bent… somewhat like a broom actually.

"I know, I know," Eibhlin says with a long sigh. She keeps her chin resting in her palm and looks up and over towards Donovan. "It's difficult to wrap my brain around. When I really think about it, I can do it, but…" There's a shrug and she sits up, reaching for the quill to center it on the table before her.

Donovan watches Evie for a minute grinning slightly, "Maybe the problem is you're thinking too much. You keep focusing on the mistakes you're making or have made… and… repeat them." He puts down his broom stick and walks over to behind Evie and puts his hands on her shoulders, "Just… relax."

Eyes roll ceiling-ward and Eibhlin leans back a bit in her seat. Not quite enough to dislodge him, but she does let her hand fall to the desk. "When I -don't- think it through, I end up… just thinking of where it is now and where I want it to be. And that… ends up poorly." So poorly.

As Evie leans back Donovan realizes what he's doing and he takes his hands off her shoulders, wouldn't want to give anyone ideas. "Right… that's because you're too smart, you're thinking about all those other things, your boyfriend, your need to do this to pass your OWLS, heck I dunno, the drama in the tower… It's all there in the background. In quidditch you have 13 other people on the field… you have to learn to be aware of them, but to focus on your job… on the task at hand. That's what you need to do, stop trying to do everything all at once… just relax your hold on those parts of your mind and hold firm to the center part… the casting."

"I'm… I'm not sure I can do that," Eibhlin admits after a moment, brows furrowing. She pulls out her wand and uses the tip of it to nudge the quill around a bit. "To… well, it's not just one thing. Not like charms. It's… all the things. The object's past, present, and future. And each one of those spindles off in so many directions."

Leaning down to whisper into Evies ear, "It's like kissing… if you're thinking about it too much you'll be bad at it… you need to feel it. Don't analyze every movement… it's an art form… a dance."

A bit of a blush spreads across Eibhlin's cheeks and she shifts a bit in her chair. Mildly uncomfortable, perhaps. Or thinking of uncouth things. "But… thought is important. To plan out what you're going to do… and plan for potential outcomes."

"Sure, you planning is important. But there is a time for tactics and there is a time to play." Donovan remembers that he isn't supposed to like Evie anymore… he stands up and walks back over to his desk… "Just… let it happen."

"Hmph." Eibhlin seems uncertain of this nonetheless. She shifts and stares at the quill, glancing back to her textbook. There's a page flipped one way, then the other. "Alright. From a quill to a pipe… shouldn't be too difficult, right?" She takes a breath and tries. The wandwork and casting are spot on. The actual result? Good as well! The quill shifts, shimmers, and changes. The features take more substantial form, the color darkens, and soon a long Sherlockian pipe is in place of the quill.

Donovan smiles, "Spot on, well done Evie." He places a hand on her shoulder blade and rubs it slightly. Before turning back to his own work. Of course at this point… he has no idea what to do with the stick… how do you enchant something to make you fly. He stares at it and wonders.

Reaching out to pick up the pipe, Eibhlin looks it over. Scrutinizing it for traces of feather or hollow bone. "It… looks like it worked." Wariness, perhaps, for some kind of trickery. A lie to herself. "I wonder if I can change it back. I can't… use a pipe."

A laugh at Evie's words, "Of course you can." Donovan says, the tone of his voice says to think she couldn't would be absolutely absurd.

Apparently letting it go to Evie's head is the wrong way to do things. When the Ravenclaw tries to transfigure the pipe back… well, it makes a long, straight wooden thing. Maybe like a quill in shape. No, not really. Eibhlin has a stick now. The teen sighs, shoulders slumping.

Donovan wasn't letting things go to Evie's head he had confidence in her. "Good, see you're halfway there." The way he says it… like he's sure she just took a break. "Don't give up."

"I'm not sure if I'm halfway or I've just made my work all that much harder." Eibhlin huffs out some air slightly, poking at the not-quill, not-pipe with her wand. She draws a deep breath and tries again… this time she does end up with a proper quill.

Donovan glares at his misshapen square broom he's holding and then sits down on the chair next to his desk. "See, you just need to believe in yourself." He glances at the red head out of the side of his vision. "I should get to bed."

Reaching out, Eibhlin picks up the quill. She turns it in her fingers a moment and does give a small smile. The Ravenclaw studies it a moment before casting a glance over towards Donovan. There's a small smile. "Thanks."

Donovan grins at Evie, "Sure thing Coch." He disassembles the pieces of the broom and then stores them in the bag, then stows all the rest of his stuff away, he gives Evie a sad sort of grin and then walks away.

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