|
|
Post by Mariana Gartiza on Sept 6, 2007 15:00:14 GMT -5
The small mexican girl hussled thourgh the portrait whole.
"Oh saletés. Sans amis de nouveau je peux être le mexicain, mais je ne suis pas posin et je peux être un traître de sang, mais pourquoi me détestez-vous ?*" She sighted and sat into a large arm chair.
*ooc: translation: Oh crud. Friendless again I may be mexican, but i'm not posin and I may be a blood traitor, but why do you hate me?
|
|
|
|
Post by Hansen Wagtail. on Sept 7, 2007 3:09:44 GMT -5
He walked with books in his hands, a sigh upon his lips. It was hard when he had to study every free moment, he was determined to get exceptional marks on his NEWTs. For as much as he loved and admired his father, he wanted to be known for doing something different ... not famous for singing like his father was. Hansen was already known, everybody knew his name ... one reason for this was because he looked so much like his father, The Weird Sisters were and would always be part of his life, not only was it the band his father sang for, but it was the group who tutored Hansen into learning guitar and singing. But sometimes ... sometimes he just wished for a couple of days it would all go away. So that he could have his own life, no he was not being selfish ... not really.
He turned down the corridor that led to the Common Room, ah how he was looking foreword to relaxing, he remembered how excited he had been in his sixth year when he found out they had free periods. Only to then find out that they were for studying, and boy oh boy did he need it. Even though his NEWTs were months away. Again he sighed and shrugged. Turning to the painting he gave the password, nodding in thanks as the painting swung forewords to reveal the portrait hole. He frowned slightly, not in anger but in confusion and curiosity as he heard foreign words coming to his ears. Glancing to the right he saw a girl, sinking into the armchair by the fire. He smiled slightly, well .. maybe he would go talk to her. He could do with a nice chat ... it appeared she could do with one also.
"Hello. Don't think i've met you, I'm Hansen Wagtail."
His words were polite, as they almost always were - like everyone it depended on who he was talking to - and he smiled, taking the armchair beside hers. He didn't want to feel intimidating, afterall he was in seventh year. It was also almost certain she knew of the Weird Sisters. Thus would know he was the son of the lead singer, but perhaps she didn't. That would be something he wouldn't complain about ... it would be nice to be spoken to as a normal human. Not one that you idolize .. that just got annoying.
|
|
|
|
Post by Mariana Gartiza on Sept 7, 2007 17:18:45 GMT -5
She blinked. "Hola, soy Mariana, y nosotros tienen no encuentra. ¿Ah, debo yo swich al engish? " She babbled.
'My name is Mariana Gartiza. We havn't Meet." She said, with a heavy accent. He second hand rodes were shabby compared to his. Her small body nothing to his. THe thin Gryhandor smiled. Could she be making friends?
|
|
|
|
Post by Hansen Wagtail. on Sept 7, 2007 20:21:37 GMT -5
The expression upon his face would have been extremely amusing as she babbled in her own language. Th eone which he did not understand. It would have brought anyone to the verge of hysterical laughter. It was one of dumbfounded curiosity .. that which brought one to stunned amazement. Yet he was also very impressed, Hansen himself had only ever managed to conquer Spanish as a second language, anything other than that was beyond his reach ... it was either that or he was purely to lazy to reach for it. He had seen this girl, Mariana, as she explained herself in a heavy accent, he had seen her at the feast at the start of the year. Sadly he had payed little attention, he knew he was supposed to have been welcoming them. And he did, he happened to have other issues upon his mind at that point.
"Its a pleasure Mariana. So where have you come from?"
Idle conversations had never been one of his strong points, but he would try .. for often he found that he could well make conversations. Even if the other gave short answers.
|
|
|
|
Post by Mariana Gartiza on Sept 7, 2007 20:34:40 GMT -5
"Mexico." She smiled. "Stuck up Familia kicked me up." she said. she was a blood tratior, but all elevn off her sisters and her mother was behind her in her choice. Her father had been crazy mad however. He belived that she was no good, a dirty tratior.
Sang Fille Idiote! N'ayez-vous aucune fierté ? N'ayez-vous aucun coeur! Vous Peice de flith! Prostituée Sale! he had scearmed.
|
|
