Calmare prima della tempesta (Open)

[Dante Vroom]

Settembre or September, Lunedì or was it Monday? Either way he knew what he meant every time he said it. But if someone else were to hear the thoughts they might be a bit confused. Thankfully people kept out of Dante's head most of the time though. Except when Tallulah would ask what he was thinking. Half the time he was never even sure what he was thinking at that very moment. Maybe it was as simple as thinking about what he was thinking. Woah, ciò confondeva.

He pondered more as he sat with his guitar in the courtyard, glad the brisk day had caused most everyone to stay inside. It looked like the sky wanted to rain, but after so many days looking at the sky in this school Dante could tell that it was not going to do anything. The false and simply overcast day, “false nuvole” he spoke to the sky. His guitar had brought him out here, the stress of adding Prefect to his schedule was getting to Dante, and he needed some kind of relief. Guitar was the answer to his stress, and the empty courtyard felt like the ideal location for some mindless strumming. Or perhaps for a secret concert for his own enjoyment.

Sonata in D by Mateo Albeniz was Dante's song of choice for an opening canzone for his secret concert. Sitting on the fountain he looked back up to the sky as he strummed away. The sky was so calm, almost to calm for his own thoughts. It was disturbing for the Ravenclaw, how could his mind be more clouded than an overcast sky. More stormy than the gray clouds? The wind was nonexistent, and that only added to the lack of anything in the weather. “Misterioso,” he spoke again to himself, “Che sono supposto per fare? Come tutto riparo?”

His questions went unanswered, and he wondered if the sky would even understand what he was asking. He stopped mid-song and distraught his voice strained, “Desidero che abbia saputo ciò che fare.” With that he went back to the Sonata and neared the end of the song. Finally a hint of wind brushed against his face, maybe he was wrong about it being a calm day. Who could tell at this point, he did not care, he would play under a tree if that is what it took.

(Yep. Open)

[Sophia Crawford]

She needed time to relax, to break from the stress of beginning classes, beginning Prefect duties, from the very beginning of the end. Yes, it was possibly the most depressing thought that occupied her mind, but Sophia couldn't put it off any longer. It was inevitable that she would savor every moment, but her moments were numbered. The day took a more somber tone than she would have liked as she stepped out into the courtyard. She had a black umbrella in hand, just in case rain began to fall on her. There was nothing worse than standing outside in the freezing rain, as it pelted you mercilessly, soaking you to the skin.

She thought she heard the gentle strum of a guitar. It was beautiful and calming. She turned around to see Dante Vroom, a boy she had met just last year in eerily similar conditions. He seemed to be speaking Italian, or some Romantic language like it. Sophia walked over to the boy, so deep in thought, and wondered what he was saying. Sure she had sung a couple of arias in Italian, but that didn't make her a pro.

Sophia stepped underneath the tree near him as the wind fluttered her hair a bit. "Hello, Dante."

[Felicity Hjort]

Maybe deciding to skip out on all extra-curricular activities was the wrong choice; it only made the blonde miserable. Taking her morning runs every morning, always by herself was becoming a dry sport, at least Drew had sometimes gone with her, but now she didn't know anyone else that liked the early shades of morning gray that let her run her heart out until she could hardly breathe. Connor didn't strike her as the type to take to such activities, Celina was definitely not an athletic companion, most of her other friends were all ready out of Hogwarts on with their own lives, and Dante...well, she didn't know him quite right too well just yet though considered him to be one of her closest friends. What was he like at running in the morning? Would he actually do her a favour when she finally asked for it? Charms was starting to bother her badly as she had so much trouble in class and practicing on her own, all ready this year having set fire to three sofa cushions in the den, and nearly making requirements for a complete shut down of a corridor because she couldn't get a spell right.

Without Quidditch to distract her mind, being unwilling to partake in clubs (though she had thought long and hard about the offered choir), Drew being gone was driving her insane. Had she really gotten to only spending time with the older Ravenclaw the last two years? It seemed so, and the only thing she had to show for it now was hardly any friends and those she had she didn't know very well. What had happened to her?

In muggle school she was top of the class, the most aggressive player in any field sport, had so many friends she hadn't known what to do most of the time, and she'd never been afraid of what might be just around the corner. Hogwarts had changed her, and she wasn't so sure she liked it any.

From the window of the Gryffindor tower, the blonde could see the remorseful sky settling in, promises of a storm just beyond the horizon, and the feel of the wind beginning to slightly pick up made her wonder what could be in store that day and later that night? She had no more classes that day, so would it be wrong to go outdoors and stand in wait of the rain that would hopefully come? Felicity didn't think so. Changing from the school uniform she'd worn for classes that day and grabbing Drew's sweatshirt, the jean-clad girl rushed down the number of stairs, taking a few passages Drew had shown her to make her way quicker to the open space, and pulled the sweater over her head as she approached the double doors leading outside.

Though, her head hadn't popped up out of the clothing as of yet when she reached for the door, pulled it open, and stepped outside. Due to such circumstances, the descending stairs went unaware to her flustered mind and she tumbled down, head stuck in the sweatshirt, arms barely through the arm holes, and she heard the unmistakable sound of ripping material as she landed, front-forward on the rambled pathway that lead down toward the gates.

And due to such circumstances, she was unaware also of the presence of two more in her company...sort of.

[Dante Vroom]

His gaze came down from the sky when he heard a voice greeting him, one he recognized surprisingly. “Ciao Sophia,” he greeted not even thinking that he had said it in Italian. The last time he saw the Gryffindor was last year before the Quidditch match. Much had changed since that day. For one his nose was not broken, yet his guitar was in hand again. Maybe this girl was drawn to music, she always seemed to show up at just the right time for it.

His mind went through what he knew about her. Seventh year, Gryffindor Prefect, was in a few classes with him. Really, aside from those basics he still new very little about the girl, it was enough that he considered her an acquaintance, did he want more than that? He could not be sure just yet, her intentions last time were a mystery. Always with her praise of his guitar skill. This time he stopped once she spoke up, the Sonata was long, and he did not want to have a conversation distract his playing.

So he set his guitar across his lap, the case had been left in his room. Instead the strap was the only tool he had needed to bring it down to the courtyard. It was unprotected, except for perhaps Dante's own body that could offer relief should the clouds actually break. He was seated with one leg crossed under the other while it dangled off the side of the fountain. He had kept his outfit comfortable, black jeans with a green t-shirt and a black zip-up hooded sweatshirt that he kept open.

“What brings you out to the courtyard today?” He spoke smoothly with a smirk on his face, again he did not recognize that a slight Italian accent had escaped. Most of the time Dante preferred to hide his accent from the rest of the students. But lately he was just to tired, his mind to fixated on other things to focus on something so trivial. As he waited for a response Dante was completely oblivious to the dilemma another of his Gryffindor friends had, quiet literally, fallen into just inside the doors of the yard.

[Sophia Crawford]

Sophia looked at Dante and his eye, which seemed to be completely healed from when she first met him. It was good to know that Quidditch wasn't permanently damaging.

He set his guitar down easily, almost carefree. "I was just out for a stroll, really. I kind of wanted...a break from things." So many things were running through her teenage mind, silly, trivial things. They weren't worth mentioning, not worth bothering anyone else about. "What brings you...Oh my goodness!" The sound of fabric ripping then a loud thud interrupted her. She turned around to see someone falling to the ground. She scurried over, surveying the damage with her deep brown eyes full of worry.

"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" She gently pulled the head of a sweatshirt down to reveal Felicity Hjort. "Felicity?"

[Felicity Hjort]

Misery.

Was that what her life was to become full of? The ripping material only meant one of three things. Either her pants had ripped, her shirt had ripped, or she'd damaged her favourite of Drew's sweatshirts of which he'd lent her for a bit. If it was her shirt or her pants, she could live perfectly fine, being so used to her tears and wears and sewn spots on her own clothing, but if Drew's was ripped, Felicity wasn't sure what she'd do. Would she cry? Just sew it and hope he wouldn't be upset? Not even tell him and just keep it? No, she'd have to at least tell him. But maybe the spot would be easy to fix, something not even noticeable. Unfortunately, her entrance to the courtyard didn't go unnoticed though.

The voice was somewhat unfamiliar, but not enough to make Felicity panic. It was an almost comforting voice, one she knew in the back of her mind but didn't know well enough to pinpoint the face or name that belonged to it. Only groaning in answer, the sudden light (or dim light) that appeared when the sweater was pulled down to uncover her own light brown eyes, the blonde shut them, letting her misery encompass her a moment longer before squinting up to see who had seen her magnificent trip.

Eyes revealing the owner of the voice, Felicity closed them again and groaned, grunted, then sat up. She could move, was still breathing, she'd live. But knowing it had to be the sweatshirt that tore, she was too afraid to inspect, the large tear down the front of the sweatshirt being ignored for the time being.