𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬.

I coped by retreating and maybe I did become a mirror, a polished surface that shows nothing of what lies beneath.

starter  :  open  ! setting  :  the  room  of  requirement  !  date  :  september  first !

In any other circumstance, the young Ravenclaw would find herself back in her dormitory, already tucked in under the covers, but her parents have been very adamant on the topic of creating connections with her school mates. No, not friendships because those are far too distracting and how could you ever trust anyone outside the family, Sybill? Connections and the word itself already sinks to the bottom of her stomach, now filled with cheap liquor. She stays near the walls because her ‘visions’ shouldn’t come at a party and if only her mother could see her now: trying desperately to find some sort of human connection in this rager. Sybill’s had some fond memories in this room; it’s the only place she can hear herself think without blurting it to the world. She’s ignored by the side and that’s fine — for now, at least — and she’s about to head back in towards the crowd. Maybe they’d fancy a palm reading? But then she’s being addressed; the facade is on once more and the mask she wears fits tight around the up-tick turns on the corners of her lip. “Here, just have mine. I haven’t drunk anything.” It’s her third cup of the night and there’s nothing that washes away the awful taste. “Are you having a good time?” There. That counts for something, right?

        THERE  WASN’T  ENOUGH  BOOZE  IN  the  world  for  andromeda  to  pretend  to  be  amused  by  what  was  going  on  around  them.  why  she’d  even  come  to  the  party  was  now  beyond  them,  other  than  a  lack  for  something  better  to  do  and  the  staunch  refusal  to  be  in  the  great  hall  for  any  longer  than  they  had  to  be.  “  booze  is  over  there,”  they  waved  a  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  cups  when  they  saw  someone  out  of  the  corner  of  their  eye.  “  might  want  to  grab  some  before  only  the  weak  stuff  is  left.   ”

The Room of Requirement would be the perfect place to throw a party, and Sybill could only wonder what else the room would provide given the amount of students that showed up. There are those that are gyrating towards the center of what could be a make-shift dance floor. There are those that walk purposefully, bumping into her and spilling sticky liquid by her feet. And there are voices — loud, excited, happy. Sybill should have stayed at the fair. She thinks she’s being acknowledged after randomly asking what’s there to do out loud and so she looks at the source of the voice, smile already plastered on her face — a normal reflex when confronted with another person. “Thank you,” and the smile turns bright. “I’m not sure what I would want to drink. What do you recommend? I don’t really do … this.”

Sybill starts out at the fair. There’s talk of a party and there’s a joke somewhere in there about the ‘seer’ not being able to figure out just where it could be. But this is fun, right? It’s not like she wants to be here, but social gatherings do call for her being somewhat social — or at least enough so that her father doesn’t give her words about it. Her ears pick up on the lyrics after she’s done tuning the music out, and she’s about to comment at the choice when someone beats her to it. “Is that what it’s called,” she asks the other, trying to hide the amused grin from forming on her features. “I’m not quite sure if that’s fair material. What would be the appropriate music for this —,” and with this, she takes an exaggerated look around, “ — amazing reunion.”