Post by Tamis Raynor on Apr 27, 2008 22:46:10 GMT -5
Where ever the Headmistress goes, they will follow. And that was not in regards to loyalty or any of that spiritual hogwash. Rather, no matter how many times she tried to hide or where she tried to escape, someone that was looking for her managed to find her. Corrion was constantly harping at her about Shaw. Yes she had known the man as youth, he knew that. No, she did not have any idea where he was hiding, he knew that too. Maybe he should stop barging into her office at all odd hours of the day – he had learned that the hard way. And if it was not Corrion, it was a Ministry owl. And if it was not an owl, it was a report on the students and… the list could go on forever.
So, Raynor had taken refuge in the one place that no one on the face of the planet would come looking for her; the Library. In many ways, Tamis Raynor did not fit the stereotypical Ravenclaw mode, but in this one she was most prominently not a-typical of graduates from the house. She hated books. Hated. Them. With a passion. She found them to be horribly biased, one sided, and either influenced by the majority belief in order to make sale, or by that of the author and how they thought it should be. She most certainly refused to teach from one, and one could only guess at how often she opened one for pleasure reading. The only books she owned and ever read had been on the Dark Arts and its defense and those that had been requirements during her years at Hogwarts. But, she had yet to be found.
As a result she had been granted a blessed hour and a half of peace so far.
And what did she do with it?
She slept.
Head pillowed on a closed fat and heavy textbook that a student had left there (no doubt in vain from even thinking about having the put the thing back on the shelves), the Headmistress was completely and utterly knocked out in one the tables in the back of the Library, just short of the Restricted Section. Hair strewn around her face and given that she barely managed a height of five feet, a passing or inattentive glance might mistake her as a student. A more careful observer might take the fact that she was not in a school uniform and that most students did not have a graying head of hair into account.
Raynor at the moment could care less. She snorted softly and slumbered on.
((Quite Open!!! ))
So, Raynor had taken refuge in the one place that no one on the face of the planet would come looking for her; the Library. In many ways, Tamis Raynor did not fit the stereotypical Ravenclaw mode, but in this one she was most prominently not a-typical of graduates from the house. She hated books. Hated. Them. With a passion. She found them to be horribly biased, one sided, and either influenced by the majority belief in order to make sale, or by that of the author and how they thought it should be. She most certainly refused to teach from one, and one could only guess at how often she opened one for pleasure reading. The only books she owned and ever read had been on the Dark Arts and its defense and those that had been requirements during her years at Hogwarts. But, she had yet to be found.
As a result she had been granted a blessed hour and a half of peace so far.
And what did she do with it?
She slept.
Head pillowed on a closed fat and heavy textbook that a student had left there (no doubt in vain from even thinking about having the put the thing back on the shelves), the Headmistress was completely and utterly knocked out in one the tables in the back of the Library, just short of the Restricted Section. Hair strewn around her face and given that she barely managed a height of five feet, a passing or inattentive glance might mistake her as a student. A more careful observer might take the fact that she was not in a school uniform and that most students did not have a graying head of hair into account.
Raynor at the moment could care less. She snorted softly and slumbered on.
((Quite Open!!! ))
