(1938-12-05) Lightning, Merlin, And Truth
Details for Lightning, Merlin, and Truth
Summary: Genevieve discovers Silas' artistic side, the two discuss a party, and confusion about their budding friendship is laid to rest.
Date: December 5, 1938
Location: Castle Corridor, Hogwarts

As in the rest of the ground floor, the ceilings here soar high above the students heads. The corridor is wide, the same flagstones of the entry hall continue here, and the columns that rise and arch over head to meet in the middle form frames for heavy wooden doorways, or embrasures filled with sturdy wooden benches. Despite the length and chill of the gray stone, it is brightly lit from the window that fills the terminating wall. Diamond paned, with gothic arch styling at the top, the window sends occasional rainbows down the hall when the sun shines through the prisms just right.

It's early in the evening… enough so that Silas took an early dinner, enough so to get out to the main corridor. It's one of his favorite places to think, to draw, whatever, when the weather outside is less than conducive to such things.
At this moment, he's actually sitting on the stones next to the massive window, his back leaning up against it. Underneath him is a thick, green blanket to cut the chill of the stones below, and a matching one loosely draped over his legs. His satchel is open at his side, several papers half-pulled from it. On his lap, and garnering much of his attention, is a large wooden board, shaped to fit perfectly there. Atop that is a bit of canvas. In his hand is a long bit of charcoal, the fingers holding it stained black already with extended use.
His attention is wholly on the work… pinpoint in its ferocity.

Jenny's attention, much like the girl herself often is, is scattered and all over the place. And she'd cut her dinner short, because the person that she'd been looking for at dinner, hadn't been there and the alternatives were to ask a bunch of people for direction or just go looking herself and looking, honestly, was more fun.
So she'd brought a few things with her in a handkerchief, like, a couple of scones and there was definately an apple in her pocket, thumping in against her thigh and making her robes bounce with every step she took. She's still sporting a bit of a shiner on her left cheek too, the bruise having turned a proper black and now with a smattering of purple just for fun, or healing, if one wanted to be technical.
Her face lights up when she spots Silas though and her direction changes from the tunnels, to the window, shoes clicking across the floor. "Sy, hey Sy!" Wavewave, with her freehand. "Hey I was looking for you!"

Silas almost flinches at the sudden noise, an action that could ruin the whole effort. Instead, he goes stock still, the look of intense focus on his face morphing easily into a wan smile as he recognizes the voice. He's been busy, and thus hasn't really seen much since their last meeting in the common room, so when he turns his head to look at Jenny, Silas' eyes go a bit wide for only a moment. Just a moment, however, as the smile becomes a grin.
"Please tell me the bludger got the worst of it." Great move, Silas… comment on a flaw first thing. "So… looking for me?"

Whoops. They might need to have that talk. The one where, she's educated on why it's a really bad idea to just, invade on someone who's focused on something so intensely like drawing. Because she still seems oblivious as to why he went so still like that and..a little less than happy, before the expression eased and she took that wan smile as an invitation to invade his space and sliped in to sit next to him there in at the window.
"Oh no, I did. I totally did. But! I made the goal, which is the important part. I mean, bludgers pick on everyone, so the idea, is to get used to taking hits without having it effect my ability to still perform. Black was helping me with it," she explains, as if he might be interested in her strange little world. Or how proud she was of that bruise. "But yes! I was."

Silas doesn't seem to be all that unnerved by the invasion of space… indeed when it's clear she's planning to sit next to him, he even shifts slightly to give her more room on the blanket… the stones are cold. His eyes go back to the picture for a moment, and he reaches back to where he had been working, correcting a line he had stopped midway in drawing.
The work is good. Very good. Extremely detailed. At this point it appears to be two boys, near a body of water. The surroundings don't have much detail yet, but one of the two boys is almost complete, and the other about halfway there. One appears to be pushing the other in, the other flailing the laughter on both faces strikingly clear. This is clearly meant to be a happy scene.
"Black, huh? Makes sense. Lot of talent there from what I understand. Makes sense to practice with him. Glad to know you still bested him, though. That, and I think yellow's a good color on you." And there's the habitual smile now, even as he adds a little detail to the flailing one's shirt. "And why, pray tell, were you looking for me?"

Aww, how sweet of him. The space is happily taken by Jenny, who eases in and then, goes a step further to share the blanket that's supposed to serve as a cover because they won't let her get away with wearing trousers instead of a skirt as part of her uniform and it gets drafty. As she settles though, she gives his drawing a look over, even as she unfolds the treasure of sweets there in the 'kerchief on her lap. An invitation to partake, if he so chooses.
"That's…," say something nice, Jenny. "You're a very talented drawer." But it wasn't a very happy picture and it didn't, at the moment, look like anyone she knew and disliked falling in so her cruel streak couldn't even find a way to enjoy it.
"Oh no, I didn't best him, we work together. Same team, same goal. He's damn good." Once again, she was left leaning in, squinting at the picture, trying to sort out the details. And the answer seems to come with a distracted air, because of it. "Oh, he says you're invited then. You can come."

Silas pauses in his adjustments for a moment, catching the comment, and the pause. He cocks his head to the side, and then reaches over with the hand not covered in soot, straightening a spot of blanket over her lap. Then there's a look at the sweets on her lap, and one is quickly snagged, and popped into his mouth.
As she leans in to him, Silas leans back just slightly, chuckling to himself before he answers, "You don't like the subject matter, I take it. I can appreciate that… and the complement as well. It's… a real moment. I saw it last summer, while adventuring away from my parent's villa in Auvergne. There's a little spot along the Dordogne near our place where the Muggle children come and play. These two boys were playing a game I think they called 'tag'. One caught the other, and in doing so, pushed him in. Their laughter was musical… even as the second boy dragged the other in with him." He looks back to it. "I love capturing moments like that. Truth… and in it's own way… beauty."
Then the subject is back to Black, and his party. "Indeed? He said I could come. You are clearly quite persuasive. I suspect we'll have a bit of fun."

He's such a good friend. A little..particular about things maybe, as he goes about adjusting the blanket, but nice. And she doesn't mind sharing. "Wait," she's just also a little confused. "So, the one that's falling, he's…happy he's falling? I thought you were trying to make it look like he was close to tears, you know, the way his face is all pinched." And because it's Jenny, she gives her best, 'Oh no I'm falling in the lake' face pinched expression.
It ends with a giggle though and a companionable shoulder-bump for the Slytherin artist, before she plucks at the edges of a chocolate scone. "So..how do they play this, tag? I mean, most anything happy is fun. I just, well I thought you were drawing something sort of…malice filled and then it's only funny if you don't like the person being hurt. But if it's a happy picture!" That made it a completely different story.
"Of course you can come. You're a good fella, good name, good breeding, good money. I'm looking forward to it. You can bring someone with you too, if you want." Is that the wrong thing to say? He said they were friends.

Silas looks at the picture again, a bit of a frown crossing his features for a moment, "It's supposed to convey laughter, yes… I didn't…" A look again, and then he shakes his head, "I can improve that part. As to this 'tag', I never really figured the rules out. I seemed to include a lot of chasing, slapping, and yelling out the word 'tag'. I never really understood it much, to be honest."
And then back to the party, "A Black said that about me? I'm almost shocked!" Again with the grin that almost never seems to lose its place… until the next statement comes, and the look becomes more confusion, even if the smile only falters slightly. "Bring someone? Was I too slow in my response, then?"

"No, no I think it's just me," that he looks worried, that he's frowning, it has her gnawing on her bottom lip with a touch of fret because she's the cause for his shifting mood. "Honestly. It's perfect. I just, well I mean, you don't expect to see someone happy to fall into a lake, you know. I just thought you were confused." Oh please oh please let that fix it.
Even if his explination of the game just, made her look confused all over again. "So they're…happy about slapping each other? And here I thought bludgers were violent enough. At least it's an international sport. Unless this…tag is an international sport?" Since he seemed to have all of the answers.
At least until the end. "Too slow? No. Why would you be too slow? I just," well this was awkward. "We're friends right, I thought maybe you might want a girl that you were…I mean, you know for…That's a really good drawing." Had she confused something?

The shake of Silas' head indicates that his store of answers seems to be low at this point, and the shrug that follows it confirms it. He seems to focus, however, on the singular topic of the party, his voice getting lower as he sets the piece of charcoal aside, and pulls out a black cloth to clean off his blackened fingers.
"Jen," the use of that name is pointed, "why would I want to go with someone other than the friend that asked me in the first place?" He chuckles, deftly finishing the cleaning of his hand and stowing the cloth away. "I wouldn't be going to this thing for Black. He's not part of my social circle, and I'm certainly no where close to his. I would be going to be with a friend. You." He reaches over, placing two fingers on the hand nearest him.
"That isn't to say that I wouldn't go anyhow, if you had someone you realized you'd rather go with. I would still go, as your friend… but I have to admit I was already trying to think of ways to ask what you'd be wearing so I could find a way to complement it."

Right well, the mystery of muggles will have to resurface another time. At least until she gets enough information about the game and it was a game, Jenny has to dig deeper now, by default. But…, and then there's his explaining and the brush of his fingers against her hand.
Once again, Jenny's left to worrying over her bottom lip and looks, for all the world, that she's focusing incredibly hard on grasping what's going on here. "It's a party, who doesn't want to go to a party. Drinks, a good time, good music. Fun. You don't have to like everyone there, goodness knows I certainly won't but…," but. But what?
Is that what friends do? Dress to compliment each other? "Are we supposed to dress to match? Do you think his group is going to? Most of the people I know at parties don't do that and honestly, I'll probably just wear a pair of comfortable trousers and a shirt but..we are friends, …right, Sy?"

Silas raises a brow at the questions, and pauses to think on it, the touch retreating after a moment, "I'm French, Jen. The only parties I've ever known were rather… posh." He sighs, nods, and pushes back with his shoulder a bit against her, "We are. And figuring out what that means, I guess. Perhaps, even, wondering where there are or should be barriers, limitations, or the like. That, at least, is what I'm inferring from your question.'
He sighs, leaning back fully against to cool window behind him, before speaking. "I know I'm not normal, Jen. I've figured out so much about life, but in truth there's a lot I simply haven't paid enough attention to. So if I'm overstepping some boundaries or confusing you with cross messages or the like, please, tell me. You've already got my word that I'll be honest with you… and you know I'll say things, even if it turns out to be the wrong thing, because of that very truthfulness."
Another breath and pause, "But the simple truth is my friend invited me to a party I otherwise likely would have had no interest in going to… but her invite made it interesting, and made me want to go."

"I think you're normal," the girl offered in a hopeful tone, even as she reached out to…well, he had his board and his sketching over his lap so patting his knee was out. His hand then, a comforting little patpatpat, that was meant to be reassuring. "Besides, most of the people who'll be there are posh, anyway. Black's a posh kind of person, but you two don't act the same. I think that's why I like you. It's probably why we're friends," she teases, her hand leaving his own and chasing down a little piece of chocolate.
"Only, I'm not..posh. Or anything. I hang out with quidditch players and, I dunno. Sorry. The friend thing is new. And I guess for a minute there, well.. it's not imporant. So we'll go. And, we'll have a good time and if it's a terrible party we'll leave and if it'll make you feel better, you can help me figure out what to wear, or something." Shoulder-bump. "Deal?"

"Posh," Silas offers with a playful grunt, "is a state of mind. Something learned, and easily taught. But I'm glad you see me differently than Black." He lets that hang there for a bit, before suddenly reaching forward to playfully flick at Jen's nose again.
"You are holding something back from me. Likely to spare my feelings, or perhaps your own. One day, I hope, you'll trust me enough so that it won't matter. But yes… deal. We will go together. We will have fun. And we will tweak the figurative noses of anyone who doesn't like it. Because in that is part of why I like you; spirit, spunk, and yet a self-awareness that I'm not sure you really even see in yourself."

"Oh. Well, okay," Jenny agrees with a laugh, though in her mind posh translates to stuck up and often looking down the noses and well, boring. Oh so very very boring. But he's flicking at her nose and she wriggles it, head tossed back with laughter and a playful snap towards his fingers.
"I wasn't. I..okay, but not for sparing your feelings or anything, because I didn't want to look silly. Because you said we were friends and we are and it's awfully nice to have one that it's okay to just be me around that doesn't judge me and for a minute, I guess, when you were talking about clothes or something I kind of thought that maybe you meant we weren't just friends, as it were or something and I didn't want to say it. But I like spunky. Thank you. That's the nicest thing anyone's said lately." Even if she arched a brow and gave him a skeptical look, for suggesting she had some sense of self awareness. "Uhm, Sy? I have no idea what you mean. So I'm going to hope that's a compliment too." Grin.

"Not just… oh." Lightbulb. Or at least something similar not so specifically Muggle to approximate it. Silas responds immediately, "If there is one thing I don't follow along with as far as it concerns our age and generation, it's notions of boundaries and limitations and 'labels' like that. We've just barely become friends. I'll put no limitations on the horizon and what it may entail… but for now, I want to know Jen my Friend. Without having to worry about silly expectations about what friendship could entail that others might have, just because we don't share the same gender."
He pauses, holds up a hand, "Not that I discount any possible future happenstances. Let me make that clear. Nor are any such prospects not wildly tempting." And then he smiles widely, and leans up against the girl fully. "I'd just like to focus on learning to be a good friend to you. To learn some of the mysteries first."
"And, you're absolutely right it was a complement."

"Oh thank Merlin," Jenny's relief is tangible, easy to see just as is to feel, because tension the girl didn't know she possessed left her and she settled in comfortably against Silas without further worry at all. "Because I just, I do bad with expectations and you'd end up disappointed and it'd be horrible and there'd be all those…dramatic moments that are terrible." Not that she isn't capable of pulling her own theatrics when the fancy strikes.
"I like you," it's a compliment, as her head flops over onto his shoulder so that she can look at his sketch and watch his hands, in the event that he starts working on it again. "You are different, but not in a bad way. It's nice. And you're nice and the friend thing, you have down pat." Her head bobbed in an attempt at a nod, even though it was on his shoulder.
"So, Hogsmeade this weekend, we should go. Think of it as an experiment. We'll each try something new, something the other hasn't done. Whatcha think?"

Silas actually offers a sigh of relief of his own… almost mirroring hers, and his head leans on hers for a bit, "I like you too, Jen. Even if it means dealing with that rug you call a cat." He laughs, softly, "Although that sounds positively terrifying, you're on."
"Just know that you can be honest with me. If I confuse you… and I know I will, just ask. I assure you the same is eventually going to happen to me."
And then, after letting a few seconds pass in silence, he says in a fully-accented French, "<There are too many roads in life that call us, to be afraid to walk them all. You need only set the first foot forward, and let the road take you where it will.>"

"Hey, something has to keep my feet warm at night! Besides, /you/ can walk safely through the common room without having your feet attacked, I swear that your little protectress stalks me now. I can't believe that your mother has the same taste in socks." Honestly, it made her worry about her taste. Or his mothers.
"I will. You promise to do the same. Though I'll endeavor to do my best not to confuse you," the girl grinned, nose wriggling rabbit like in his direction, before her brows knitted together as that accent slipped past his lips. "That sounds pretty. What did you say?" No shyness at all to admitting her lack of knowledge.

"She hasn't worn them since she was our age. My little warrior found one and stole it one day." He grins, and seems about to say something, when movement outside catches his attention. He turns his gaze to the window, pointing out at the stars as, despite the relatively clear night, streaks of lightning cross the night sky, thundering moments later.
He turns back to her, motioning for her to watch with him, even as he explains, "It's a proverb, of sorts. In short, it says you can't live life unless you let the road take you where it will."

"Mmm, well, okay. That makes me feel somewhat better about it." It came with a tease and a wink. "It's cute that she has something she loves though. Even if it means I'm forced into sprinting towards the shower or at least, wearing shoes. Do you know how much I don't like shoes." A hint of her tongue peeked out with gesture, before the bright flash of light from the window caught her eyes and the girl sighed an almost dreamy sort of sound, expression going soft.
She shifts a little; though it has her leaning more into him, head tilted back so that she can better see the skies. "Mmm. I like that. But sometimes you have to stop I think. For a little while. Stop and enjoy the storm." And she's content too, even in silence, until the need for bed forces them to retreat.

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