Taking a Gamble

According to Khaat, his education was important. Elijah didn’t see it himself. He enjoyed the simple pleasure of just being away from education. Of course, his education was suffering greatly, as it had nearly always done, but this time it seemed to be on a downward slope that no one seemed to take much notice of. His father didn’t care so much as he’d resigned himself to the fact his son was going to be a painter; his mother was dead so she couldn’t complain and no one else seemed to want to pay attention to the wayward artist that appeared to be getting his life back on track. Elijah didn’t know what was going on with himself but he didn’t want help – he didn’t want any of that.

“Why are you so good?” The little wide-eyed Gryffindor he’d been painting broke Elijah from his thoughts and he looked up from the oils beginning to take the form of her face on the canvas. He allowed her a small smile and looked at his art. She and the painting looked uncannily alike. He didn’t take a spin. He merely worked with what he had and somehow, through some form of natural magic, he made the picture beautiful. Elijah placed the paintbrush between his lips and looked at the girl. He put the paintbrush and palette down and leaned forward. He pulled her pigtails out and ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing it out. She stared at him like a deer caught in headlights and Elijah continued to smile. He handed the hair bands to her and picked up the paintbrush again.

“Because I have such a good subject,” He answered smoothly, making the girl beam. He took the canvas off of the stand and handed the finished painting to her. “Keep it and have your hair down more often. It frames your face better. Thank you for sitting. Oh!” He picked up a pencil and quickly scrawled his signature in the corner before watching her scurry away.

Dexter had his nose buried in a book about mood enhancing magic. Trowa's inquiries about a dress had gotten his mind spinning. Perhaps he could do something with these spells and apply some pharmaceutical and psychological knowledge to patent a drug to keep mentally and emotionally unstable subjects docile and yet functioning, with a balance of emotions without destroying their freedom of thought.

He had gone outside to read but it had gotten chilly shockingly fast and he was not forced indoors, his head still lowered, his finger moving along the page, memorizing and storing each sentence with the careful diligence of a scientist. He pushed his way into the Entrance Hall and all was going fine, when suddenly, his foot caught on something. The book flew from his hands and he grabbed at it, before crashing down.

His glasses spun off his face and skidded across the floor, his bag flying open and papers fluttering every where, his book clattering to the ground. He had hit his chin and dinged up his elbows and knees and his breath had been knocked out of him. Blindly, he sat up and turned, squinting. There was some sort of easel and a figure, though he was unsure what had tripped him. He reached forward and grabbed his glasses, blowing air onto them and wiping them on his shirt before trying them on his face, squinting around. The usual routine. He was not unused to being tripped.

With no new subject, Elijah decided that perhaps it would be best to turn back to still life. At that thought, Elijah made a face to himself. He hadn’t painted a piece of fruit as the focal point since he was nothing more than a child sat with his tutor in the dining room. It was after the fruit bowl catastrophe that Elijah had begun to draw humans, his nanny, guardian – whatever you wanted to call her – in particular. She was a beautiful, elegant creature; one he adored drawing even to this day. She’d showed him two things: the deliciousness of the human body and the delicate wonder of a female’s. She’d invoked in him, Elijah’s now very prominent love of women but it was his tutor, Micah, who had made him fall in love with anything beautiful.

So, when the doors to the entrance hall opened, Elijah instinctively looked around in search of some inspiration. What he found was a curly haired boy, swathed in the robes of his house* with a book under his nose. Elijah felt the sides of his lips curl up into a smile and he turned away, busying himself with pinning another piece of canvas to a board. Just as he was finishing the tacking, the stomach-churning sound of body connecting with hard marble made Elijah freeze. His hackles rose and he rolled his shoulders back, calming his self down. He’d always loathed that sound, ever since he’d heard Elisabeth smack against the marble foyer when she was nothing more than a toddler. He’d heard her cries. There was a difference; he was sure, between the injured party and his then-baby cousin.

Elijah turned and shot off of his stool. He dropped himself to the floor and began to gather up some of the things that had spilled from the boy’s bag. Elijah bundled them into an incoherent pile and slid across the floor towards the boy. His paint-covered jeans dragged slightly against the marble but he paid them no mind. They were old and he had enough pairs as it was. He could afford to lose them. Elijah picked up some more of the fallen possessions and placed them in his lap. He put his hand on the boy’s arm and cleared his throat, letting him know of his presence.

“Are you alright?” Elijah asked, his dark eyes ever so wide as they stared at the Ravenclaw intently.


* I assume he has robes on. Correct me if I am wrong, Jackles! (:

(you are correct, my friend. =) )

Dexter reached out, scooping all of his papers closer to him so he shuffle them into some sort of order before hurrying off. He would have to spend an hour or so in the common room that night, diligently placing every paper in his proper place. As many times as this had happened, he had not given up on his organizational system, even if he spent more time organizing rather than benefiting from the organization.

Dexter reached out and blindly groped for his book, his eyes still seeing spots. He blinked rapidly and ticked his jaw, trying to make it feel better. His hand found the book and he curled his fingers around it, sliding it towards him. He finally pushed himself up so he was not still sprawled on the ground and pushed himself up so he was sitting back, surrounded by papers. He twisted and saw a hand on his arm.

Dexter blinked up at the boy, no idea who we was confronted with. He thought the boy might be Slytherin but otherwise he had no other clues to his identity. Dexter did not pay enough attention to his peers to know any of them that did not actively try to make themselves known to him. Unfortunately, that meant that he knew a grand total of, what, four people?

The boy asked if he was okay and Dexter shrugged, reaching up to adjust his glasses. "Yes, I'm sure I'll manage to survive," he replied in his dry voice, getting as close to humor as he ever would. He held his hand out for the papers in the boys lap, his other hand gathering the rest of the fallen papers.

Elijah ran a hand across his jaw line, mussing the hair that was growing steadily across it. He’d need to trim it in a few days, he decided. Elijah scratched his neck and pursed his lips slightly as he observed the boy. His chin was reddening a little and it made Elijah smile. He’d seen many a bump and bruise in his time. Had it been Fauve or Thierry he probably would have gathered them up in his arms and let them cry it out. Neither one took too well to pain – like their infamous father. Elijah chuckled absent-mindedly to himself and looked at the Ravenclaw. He cleared his throat, feeling awkward, and managed a small, shy smile.

“What did you even trip on?” Elijah asked, looking about himself for the source of the pain the boy must be feeling. “Did you hurt yourself badly?” Elijah asked another question as he took his eyes back to the Ravenclaw. He reached out tentively and pressed his fingers to the underside of his chin. “Does that hurt?” He queried, applying a bit of pressure.

Elijah took his fingers away and returned his hands to the floor, clawing back the last of the possessions that could have quickly became lost. Elijah tapped the bottom of the papers against the floor in hope of straightening them up and he held them out for the Ravenclaw to take.

“Sorry,” Elijah apologized simply, a smile on his lips. He cocked his head to the side for a moment and observed the boy. “You wear glasses.” He pointed out the obvious. “There is a spell that fixes eyesight isn’t there? I am sure a friend of mine used one before..”

Dexter shrugged at the boys question, still pulling papers towards him. "I'm not sure, it caught me by surprise, otherwise I would not have tripped... Your paint supplies, you, my own feet, take your pick." Towards the tail end of his sentence, his words became more like grumbles to himself, rather than to answer the other boy's questions. He asked if he was hurt and Dexter shook his head. "I'm fine." He suddenly felt a touch on his chin and he reached out, putting his hand on the boys arm and pushing it away so he could push himself up. "I'm fine."

He stood up, pushing himself up and then bent to begin gathering all of the papers, tucking his book under his arm. He sighed and straightened up. Much too bothersome. With a quick wave of his wand, his bag opened up and all of the loose papers began to fly towards it, quickly filing themselves away. Once it was all done, he retrieved his bag and pulled it onto his shoulder.

The other boy held out the last of the papers and Dexter strode forward and took them, quickly busying himself with sliding them into his bag, muttering a noise that sounded like a 'thank you.' He finally stood up, all his papers in their proper place. The other boy pointed out his glasses and Dexter raised an eyebrow. "Correct," he said dryly. The other boy continued and Dex nodded. "My parents are worried that the spell will not be lasting and will ruin my eyesight in the future. I don't mind."

The Ravenclaw seemed skittish and it made Elijah smile somewhat. He chuckled to himself and watched the boy fiddle with the papers and such. Elijah watched as the boy straightened them with a smell and he couldn’t help but smirk. He didn’t appreciate Elijah’s concern either it seemed; and he gave no real indication whether he was in pain or not. He was, though. Elijah could tell that much. Well, it wouldn’t have been pain per say but it would smart a bit. Elijah cleared his throat and lifted himself onto his feet. His jeans fell a little on his waist and he reached down to hike them up again. He needed a belt.

At the mention of his arts supplies or the easel being the cause for the boy’s fall, Elijah turned, scanning the floor for anything he could have tripped up on. He couldn’t find anything though and he looked at the boy critically. He couldn’t have tripped over thin air could he? Then again, it wasn’t impossible. Jen did it at times but Eli was sure Rob had something to do with that. Elijah cleared his throat again and brought his hand up to the back of his neck. He smiled a little and decided maybe it was best to chip in some more.

“You might want to get that looked at,” Elijah gestured to the boy’s chin. “Just for...precaution I suppose.” Elijah pursed his lips a little when the boy gave his opinion on the rather successful optical spell. He smiled and shook his head. “It works well enough. It just depends on the caster I think. What are you, uh, doing with all of that stuff?”

Dexter sighed and then rubbed his chin self consciously, trying to keep himself from wincing. He turned his head to work out a crick in his neck and that is when two boys fell from behind a pillar, roaring with laughter. Dexter squeezed his eyes shut as they screamed with laughter, pointing and laughing before rushing off, clutching each other. He opened his eyes and began to blink his eyes rapidly, pulling his bag's strap. Mystery solved.

"I'll work something out when I get back to the dorm. I've become rather good with first aid," he said, shrugging slightly. It was true. After countless trippings and pranks and the sort... he was fairly used to patching himself up.

At the other boys question, he shrugged, closing the little clasp on his professional looking bag, readjusting his wire glasses. "Eh, parents. And this is all of my research. Just little quests of knowledge that I have embarked upon."

First aid. Sweet Merlin didn't that sound familiar? Elijah felt his lips twitch upwards and he turned his wrists over. He pushed one of the bracelets back and traced a scar from an 'accident' a long time ago. The Durmstrang boys were good at 'accidents'. Elijah hadn't realised how sharp the marble statues were until that day. That was one of the worst ones.

It had been an accident really. They'd pushed him, not an accident, but they hadn't banked on him bracing himself against one of the walls. They also hadn't thought for a second that he'd hurt himself. Elijah hadn't gone to the nurse. He'd cradled his bloody wrist and gone through his books for a spell to heal it. He found one easily enough and soon realised just how invaluable his books would be in the months to come. Then of course, he saved himself. He ran away.

"I can help," Elijah offered before he could stop himself as he burst from his reverie.

Tearing his fingers off of his wrist, Elijah rose to his feet. The boy seemed...inquisitive. Well, he would have been -- being a Ravenclaw and all. Elijah could imagine him pouring through books and books in search of answers, coming up with his own formulas and spending countless hours researching. Elijah knew he couldn't do that. The only reason he'd read at Durmstrang was because they couldn't see him behind the large tomes.

Dexter saw the boys hand go for his wrist, but he was scientific. He could make that observation but the social meaning behind it was lost to him so he took it as nothing more than circumstantial. The other boy offered to help him and Dexter squinted at him, finding need to reach up and adjust his glasses to better peer at the curious boy who was wanting to help rather than harm. Hm... Unheard of.

But that would require seeming less than capable than the boy, and Dexter's dignity (surprisingly he still had some), pride, and ego, would not allow for that. "No, it's quite alright." He replied briskly, finding no need to thank the boy for his offer. "I am perfectly capable of doing it on my own. I would prefer so. I will have to decline your offer."