A New Painting, A New Mind

A blank canvas... that's all she had. It had just come in from her mother as a gift and she'd wasted no time getting it stretched and set up on an easel. Lately she'd spent much of her time gathering items for a new sculpture she'd been working on, but the arrival of canvas had put all thoughts of that aside as she stared hungrily at it. What to paint...

She sat in her dorm room for what must have been hours, though it felt like minutes to her. She'd set up her easel in front of her and stared blankly at it, the tip of a paintbrush stuck between her teeth, wearing her favorite ratty sweatshirt that was covered in different colored paints. People came and went in her dorm and she didn't move, simply stared at the canvas. It was a process, she had to take in the canvas before she could do anything to it, otherwise nothing would happen, it would be sub par and she'd throw it out. That's how it always was. So she stared, and contemplated, and guessed at what she might draw. After... hours... she picked up her easel, grabbed her painting kit and flung herself down the stairs and into the Ravenclaw common room.

It was noisy and packed and oddly comforting, the statue of Rowena looking down at them wisely, the fire was roaring, and people were chattering, doing homework, and otherwise socializing. It wasn't an odd site to see Phoenix jolting down the stairs with an easel and her painting kit. It was however an odd site to see her jolt to a halt by the window, turn around and set her easel down, open her painting kit on the table next to her, and stare towards the fireplace with a look of deep concentration.

There was little for it, the people around her scooted away a tiny bit and she set to work, mixing colors and frowning as she fumbled to get the ones she wanted. The paint was thick and sticky, and it quickly became apparent why she was always covered in paint. She got some on her hand, wiped it off, forgot about it, and scratched her nose, leaving a dark red streak across the bridge. She leaned too far over to reach a paint and got some of the blue she was mixing on her hoodie, though she paid no mind and continued to stretch, mix and swirl, only occasionally wiping off a brush or changing to a new one. It was almost half an hour before she even touched the canvas she'd spent hours staring at, instead she mixed and remixed her paints until she got what she wanted, and then finally turned to the canvas, held out the paintbrush, and made a first stroke.

"Margo... We have herbology."

The blonde rolled over, shoving her nose further into the pillow, her knees drawing up, scrunching her bum up into the air. Molly Weasley had already thrown all of her pillows at her best friend, had come over multiple times to wake her up, and now stared at her in utter disbelief. Molly had donned her uniform, had pulled on an oversized coat, had even found her book in all of the time it had taken for Margo to fall deeper and deeper into her comatose state.

Molly sighed and crossed closer, standing next to the bed, arms hanging heavily at her sides. "Come on, I went last time you ditched. You owe me."

"But Devon..." Margo mumbled in her sleep, making a disconcerting noise that led Molly to believe that the blonde was dreaming about the boy from the party last Saturday. Molly flicked her eyes skyward and reached out, pushing on Margo's arse. Margo tumbled onto her side, letting out a snore as she went. Molly was practically out the door when Margo muttered, "Thanks, Mol."

Molly regretted going to class. It seems more than a few people had ended up skipping, and she had been actually asked to participate. She usually managed otherwise by pairing up with Kevin Catherly, while Margo teamed up with Carlton Hughes, and they let the boys do all the planting and potting while Margo vented to Molly and Molly scribbled in the book's margins. But both Carlton and Kevin were out, as was a good quarter of the class. Apparently, there was a mild case of the black cat flu going around and the hospital wing was bursting. Molly was curious to know how many people simply had Margo's case of lazy-ass-itis.

And of course, when they left the greenhouse, it was pouring.

Molly strode into the common room, having given the knocker and curt, irritable answer and beelined for the couch closest to the fireplace. She knew she could change. She knew she could perform a quick spell. But she was irritable and wanted heat. She wanted to watch the fire dance. And...

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slightly damp carton of cigarettes. She placed it in front of the fire, before pulling one out. She leaned forward, lighting it on the dire.

"You can't-" a first year began. His companion shook his head quickly, and the two shuffled away, leaving Molly to smoke her cigarette in peace.

What. A. Day.

The smell of smoke drifted to Phoenix and the smell jolted her out of her concentration. It was a smell she knew from a long time ago and it almost made her stagger. Her father had used to smoke cigarettes, and although she never saw her father anymore, the smell was ingrained her memory and she smiled slightly, looking towards the source. A girl younger than herself was sitting in front of the fire, soaking wet, and smoking a cigarette after having given a scalding look towards a few first years who had almost said she couldn't do that.

Phoenix looked back at her barely started painting, a streak of dark red that had spent her ten minutes to figure out. A smokey sort of red that matched the dark wall next to the fireplace. A cobblestone look that flickered with a lighter orange through the center, like a flicker of light across the stone. She was proud of the color, and she stared at it for a moment, before dipping her brush back into the paint and smearing some more across the canvas. She concentrated again on her work, splattering paint here and there, mimicking the way the light flickered across the wall. At one point she dabbled some blue in, and watched as the painting became more abstract then literal, though the feeling was there. The dark almost hard to see blue with flickers of light over a cobblestone.

She enjoyed the look for a moment before the smell of cigarette smoke wafted over to her again and she turned away from her canvas once more to look towards the girl who was smoking. It wasn't everyday Phoenix actually sat in the common room, so she had no idea if this was a normal thing or not... whatever it was... it was distracting. She'd dabbled into cigarettes in the past, and had enjoyed them when she did, but she'd not had one for a long time. There was a slight ache in her chest where she thought about how it felt, but then she shook her head and turned back to the painting she'd been working on. It only had a small section in the middle painted, the rest was still white, but she was happy with it. A group of students came into the common room, talking loudly as they did, all huffing with the climb and joking with their friends.

She saw a few glances her way, a few more towards the girl smoking, but otherwise they were just one big distraction as she lost her ability to see the flickering light on the stones through the maze of people coming in. Phoenix frowned and remember this was why she never painted in the common room. Too many people, too much noise, too many distractions. Closing the lid on her paints, she moved through the throng of people and collapsed down in the chair next to the smoking girl. "Got another one of those?" She asked with an air of not caring either way if she did or not.

Molly was a bit of an enigma. Because of her family history, most of the school knew who she was. It seemed that every house celebrated each acquired child of a war hero like a token that validated their worth. She could remember hoe enthusiastically she was cheered for upon her sorting, nothing like the reception people like Margo got. They gave her the benefit of the doubt, assumed she meant great things, assumed they would find a leader in her.

Other houses were paid off in this expectation. Gryffindor got just what they wanted out of James Potter, Fred Weasley, and Sawyer Weasley. The Slytherins had been so excited for Albus, and he had proved a side of the snakepit that others did not believe existed. Victoire and Teddy had been absolute jewels as Head Boy and Head Girl. And what did Molly deliver?

Nothing.

She was known to be reclusive, suspected to be a bit dark. Those with an adventurous spirit had seen the party side of her first hand, but had not learned anything further. Despite her family's notoriety, she was a locked vault. She could sit in the common room alone for hours and usually not be approached or bothered. Because people knew better.

Every now and then, however, someone went against the grain.

If it had been a familiar voice, she would have just handed over her cigarette. She did not recognize the voice, however, so she slowly turned her head as she let out another exhale. Interesting. She had seen the girl before, of course, her hair rendering her impossible to forget. She could not recall a name - Art Girl. That was the label that came to mind.

Molly flicked her wand, and a cigarette slid out of the carton before the fire, spinning in the air and landing in Art Girl's lap. It was advanced for a fifth  year, certainly, but it came in handy on days such as this when Molly really did not feel like moving.

She was kinda surprised the girl even handed her one, even if it was with magic, she didn't care. She picked up the cigarette off her lap and pulled her wand out, holding it to the end of the cigarette it immediately started to burn and she put it to her lips, inhaled, and exhaled slowly. It felt almost wrong to have something so.... muggle in a place like Hogwarts. She didn't mind however as the smell itself is what drove her to lose concentration on her painting. She'd enjoyed the look of it, but sometimes it helped to take a step back and appreciate something for what it was. A cigarette was nice.

Sighing she leaned back in the chair and glanced around. A few first years were looking at them nervously, but otherwise they seemed to be ignored by the majority of the room. Her painting still sat in the corner, and without a word she flicked her wand and it spun around to face her, so she could see the way it looked from across the room. She squinted slightly and frowned, not sure she liked the flecks of orange anymore and determined silently she would change that later. While staring her eye was distracted yet again by the sight of her cigarette smoke.

Smiling she pulled it to her lips and then blew out the smoke, watching it curl up into the air in a puff of vapor. She watched the color dance off of it in the dimly lit room and then turned to the girl with red hair. She'd heard the girls name before somewhere, but she wasn't really one to care about those others considered 'famous' they were just people, and people had a right to be themselves. She had a strange feeling she should know this girl, but she didn't really. "Thanks. I'm Phoenix by the way, Phoenix Carter."

Molly sank back into the cushions, enjoying the give they allowed for her back. The couches seemed to get more comfortable every year, as someone decided to charm them to be fluffier, more comfortable. Soon, they would be losing first years to the thick cushions, the deep couches...

Ooh, that would be unfortunate.

It seemed so many of Molly's relationships relied on silence and cigarettes - even with this girl she knew only as a housemate. She didn't mind. She could deal with those two things. Small talk, fake smiles, projections about weekend plans - those were very real threats to her sanity.

"Molly," she said, rolling the M, lingering on the L, before enjoying another hit of nicotine. She had not come in to chat up some random girl but...

Look who decided to show up.

Margo came stumbling down the staircase, wearing dinosaur boxers and a tank top, hair mussed. Molly had a cruel thought, and couldn't help but act upon it. Margo had earned it, and Molly was one of the few people who could actually get any sort of lesson through that thick blonde head.

Molly turned towards the redhead and smiled, lolling the cigarette from her fingers. "Right, so you paint? When you start up with that?"

Phoenix enjoyed the cigarette for a few moments, inhaling and exhaling at regular intervals and enjoying the slight dizziness that came with it. It had been months since she had last had a cigarette and her body was reacting as though she'd never had one at all. She sighed and leaned back in the cushion, content to leave their conversation at that, not even noticing the other girl enter the common room, she did however notice when the other girl, Molly, turned to her and asked her a question.

Glancing over at her, she sat up straighter in the chair and looked at her before thinking about the question. When did she start painting? Well that was an interesting question. "Err.. well, I've been at least drawing most of my life, since I could pick up a crayon I suppose. Though I didn't start fully painting or drawing until I started to get.. good at it.. when I was like, nine-ish. I guess. I love art and always have." She took another drag on the cigarette and looked over at Molly. It was slowly starting to come to her why this girl was familiar.

She was a Weasley. One of those more famous people that most people knew about. Molly Weasley, the Weasley that didn't quite fit in with the other Weasley's if she knew her popularity charts right. Phoenix was at the bottom, but Molly had her own friends, and was popular because of her family. She wondered what that must be like.. being a Weasley, no choice in the matter. "I was just.. working on a new project when I smelt this." She lifted her hand to show the cigarette and lowered it back down again, flicking the ash off as she did. "Distracted me." She smiled and nodded her head over to the painting she'd just started over in the corner.

She knew what Margo was thinking, especially so soon after having dragged herself out of bed. She knew that bleary blonde brain was going to be irritable, was going to have a strange sense of possessiveness. Molly knew how insecure Margo could be, how uncertain.

Right now, she didn't care.

She rested her free hand on the back of the couch, resting her chin in her slack, cupped hand, dull blue eyes blinking as she tilted her head, putting odd the vibe of extreme interest.

"That's so interesting," she said, lifting the cigarette to her lips. On the exhale, she smiled. "Yes, they are a lovely distraction aren't they?"

Margo slowly approached, settling down next to Molly. "Hey, Mol."

"Are you trying to make a career out of it, then?" Molly asked. She could feel Margo bristle, as she knew Molly never took that sort of interest in people.

"Bloody hell," the blonde murmured.

Something told Phoenix that this girl really honestly didn't care about what she had said. In fact nothing the girl did or said reflected... well.. interest. She was used to it though, so she went a bit quiet as the girl spoke. At that point another girl came over and sat down next to Molly. It was then that Phoenix realized that something was going on there, and she sighed slightly, took another hit of the cigarette and flicked the ash off. "You could say that." She said, a little irritated. She didn't know what it was that tipped it off. Maybe the phrase "That's so interesting", but now Phoenix remembered why she didn't usually talk to others.

They had their own ulterior motives about everything and no one actually cared. This other girl came over, heard the conversation and said something under her breath that sounded a lot like a curse word, and Phoenix looked at her with interest. She didn't know Margo very well, not that she knew Molly at all, but she'd at least seen Margo stumbling out of the dorm room a few more times than not. Usually late and / or wearing something odd, like today.. wearing dinosaur boxers.

Phoenix grabbed her wand and flicked it, turning her painting back towards the wall. It was good practice anyway, non-verbal was really starting to set in and she loved it. All she had to do was flick her wand and whatever she wanted done, did it, without having to mumble and yell all sorts of nonsense words that sometimes didn't even work. "Hello." Phoenix said to the other girl with a small smile towards her. She didn't normally initiate conversation, but when she did she tried to be nice. Otherwise people would have just one more reason not to talk to her.

Molly wasn't a people person, but she was intuitive enough to feel the shift in the girl's attitude, especially with the sudden drop in word volume, the edge in her voice. Molly would have felt bad, if the girl had not interrupted her much needed alone time and asked for a cigarette. That should cancel out, in her opinion. And anyway, she had gone most of her life not bothering to care how other people perceived her. She could not see how changing that now would change anything for her.

Phoenix greeted Margo and the blonde immediately snipped out a "Hey," before her eyes fell onto Molly. "Come off it, then?"

"Margo, we're talking," Molly said, her eyes focused on the cigarette as she tapped it over an ashtray that had appeared a few years back.

"Oh?" Margo asked. She looked at Phoenix. "Phoenix, how're you, then?"