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[attr="class","lyric1raven"]little talks

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[attr="class","lyric2raven"]You're gone, gone, gone away,
I watched you disappear
All that's left is a ghost of you

[attr="class","textbodraven"]Maya hadn't... she hadn't thought this through.

Well, she had, actually. To a tee, Maya had planned out her evening of studying to wrap up a very busy weekend. Exams and essays were reaching their peak, after all, and Maya was trying to stay ahead of it all. She couldn't fall behind and she certainly wouldn't be caught faltering. Besides, her weekend schedule had already been disrupted enough, thanks to the most riveting of mysteries her and Angus had embarked upon Friday night. Their curiosity hadn't waned come Saturday morning and both of those occasions had dug into valuable stargazing time and inspirational essay writing time, respectively. So Maya had adjusted accordingly and her schedule should have been perfectly fine until the end of the weekend. That is, if she timed everything just right. The only way her study plan could be executed without a hitch would be if she arrived at the mysterious twilight turret door right when the clock chimed midnight. Not a moment earlier, because Maya needed every second to go over her Potions class cue cards, and not a moment later - well, for the obvious reason. The door would only appear for a minute, after all. But once she was in, she had an extra hour.

And Maya had missed it.

In fact, she had been making a mad dash down the corridor when the door had vanished right before her eyes. She had stopped in her steps, stumbling to a stop from her sprint, with frustrated and breathless groan. How could she have timed it all so poorly. Maya pulled out the parchment which bore her intricate schedule - the sixth draft since Thursday, thanks to Sleuthing Society-centred adjustments - and shook her head in disbelief. It didn't make sense. Perhaps... it had to be her lunch or dinner breaks. Maybe she had taken a bit too long in the Great Hall. That was entirely possible, students tended to get incredibly talkative over meals and sometimes Maya didn't know how to just back away and end the conversation without coming off as rude. Well, maybe she would need to take her food up to the dorms from now on - but studying in the dorms was a nightmare most days. The girls in her year talked so bloody much, it honestly gave Maya a bit of a headache. Malena was the only one in the dorm she truly liked.

It didn't matter why it had happened now, Maya concluded. It had happened, which meant that she didn't get to have her free hour... which meant that she would be missing an hour of sleep tonight. And hopefully not getting caught out of bed after curfew on her way back to the Ravenclaw Tower. She really did time it perfectly almost every other time, so hopefully any prefect that chanced upon her would just know that and let her be on her merry way. Maya didn't exactly fancy having to talk herself out of a detention or a points loss over something so silly, and especially not at this hour. They all had more important things to do.

Still, Maya gave a jump and her hand flew to her chest as her heart rate skyrocketed once she had turned the corner. She had only been one step into the turn and there was already a shape in her peripheral vision, which had really given her a right scare. However, as Maya's gaze fixed on the form and her eyes travelled up and down, the recognition set in and her tense shoulders relaxed just slightly. "Good evening, my lady," Maya greeted the ghost of her house with a curtsey and a clever smile on her face. "Is that a new shade of grey? It's rather becoming on you," she praised. It wasn't, of course. Ghosts didn't work like that, but if Maya was going to be losing sleep and getting caught out of bed after curfew, she may as well have a chat with the house ghost while she was at it.

The Grey Lady | 672 words | outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

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[attr="class","title2"] Little Talks

[attr="class","subtitle2"]Hold My Hand
I'll Walk With You My Dear

[attr="class","wordz1"]
She was often relieved that she was the patron of the Ravenclaws, rather than one of the other Houses. While she was Living, she might have wished to be the daughter of a different Founder, caught up in her mistaken assumption that her mother cared little for her, though she had never seen herself as fitting into any of their Houses. True, Helga would have taken her, claiming her as all the rest (was that line from last year, a century past, or a few decades ago?), and both Godric and Salazar would have been picked her for their own, but Rowena had the tightest claim, and she was fairly certain no one had missed the narrowed glance her mother had given the rest when it was Helena's turn to sit under Godric's patched hat. Had she been Sorted before the Hat, her mother would have simply claimed her before her other parents could get in another word.

She had been a born a Ravenclaw, named for the black-taloned eagle like her mother before her. Her mother had designed the common room, and in her own certainly biased opinion, it was the better of the four, for all that her mother had been inspired by one of the competitions she'd often had with Godric and Salazar. Her students were preferred as well-- the Ravenclaws were a collection that she'd always felt more comfortable with. Lust was never something she'd felt in her body during Life, save for academic lust, and that lust was what drove Ravenclaw on an era later. She would never be able to exist with the bright spirits of Godric's lusty adventurers, Salazar's picked, or Helga's lot for as long as she had with her mother's chosen. They were able to understand in a way the others did not, the wish for solitude. Perhaps in another eight hundred years, she'd turn as gregarious as the Friar, but still she doubted it. Still, she had time endlessly stretching on before until the last stone at Hogwarts crumbled.

A smile curled at her lips at the child's shock and attempt at. . . humor, flattery, distraction, whichever. It was somewhat too late for the usual, she was sure. Time was still difficult to keep track of, but she was relatively certain that it was past the curfew for most. If the child before her fell into the younger section of students or the older, she herself was not precisely sure. She might have become a ghost at sixteen, yet that certainly didn't help with distinguishing ages, especially after a thousand years of students. Younger would be her assumption, as she was. . .relatively sure she'd seen some of the oldest students just earlier, unconcerned about curfew.

"Perhaps shadows," she allowed, her own attempts at humor. She'd never been especially proficient in that art, not while she Lived or in her timeline as a Spirit. Her mother had. . .like always, that was another knowledge her mother had known more of. The Friar was rather more experienced as well and while she had in the past, tried to study said art from him, it had become rather too irritating. "I don't believe someone's tried propping the door open, so I hope your mind's as sharp as ever. Or remains so, at least." She was better at reading people than she was humor, and if she was to guess the girl's intentions, it was not to draw her into conversation so that her lateness might be looked past or that the Grey Lady might take accountability for the lateness. No, it took some draw to conversation, and while she might certainly be tempted, it was not too entirely easy a task.

[attr="class","tags1"]☆ @eaglet, 616 words☆

[attr="class","credz1"]❤fai

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[attr="class","backgraven"]

[attr="class","lyric1raven"]little talks

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[attr="class","lyric2raven"]YOU'RE GONE, GONE, GONE AWAY,
I WATCHED YOU DISAPPEAR
ALL THAT'S LEFT IS A GHOST OF YOU

[attr="class","textbodraven"]Her mind was busier than usual. More worried. More harried. Things were happening outside of Hogwarts and Maya couldn't do anything about it. She worried about her mother, maybe more than she should have, considering the two of them rarely even talked while Maya was at school. Not much beyond a monthly update. Mac Zhao probably figured she could get the details of anything going wrong from Chris, and didn't see the point in bothering her daughter with too many letters. Not that Maya would've been bothered--but that was beside the point. Her mother was sick, and Maya was stuck in Hogwarts, left to wonder what she was going through. Unfortunately, Maya had a rather creative imagination. It wasn't doing her any favours lately.

Between her mum being sick, and Angus not being able to get more than three words out around that one fifth year Slytherin--the transfer from last year--there was a lot on Maya's mind. So maybe she shouldn't have been surprised by how poorly she had timed her arrival. But it wasn't like Maya to be quite so all over the place. She was usually very good about staying on top of things, and she thought she had done a rather good job of keeping up with her studies this year. It was just... real life that seemed to be the problem. And the fact that, for the first time ever, Maya really missed both of her parents.

But she wasn't about to admit that out loud.

A detour was the last thing Maya needed, but she had always liked the Grey Lady. If she was being completely honest (and rather biased), Ravenclaw had the best house ghost. Maya just thought she was far more interesting to talk to than the other ghosts. Not to mention the fact that the Bloody Baron did very little talking to begin with... and that he was so bloody gloomy. "Very lovely shadows, then," Maya complimented cheekily. "That's a lost cause, I think. I've already accepted my fate of losing sleep, anyways," she continued with a shrug. Although... being the first to pry those doors open would be quite the feat.

@ grey lady | 360 words | outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF GS + WW

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