Ways To Communicate (Anastasiya)

Anya had spent the better part of the morning in bed, working on a poem. After a while, she finally came to the realization that there was a word beyond her bed and her quill, so she decided to see who was in the common room. She grabbed her leather bound notebook and her quill, and she made her way to the Hufflepuff common room.

Anya had grown accustomed to the Hufflepuff common room. In previous years, she had tried to spend most of her time in places such as the library, drowning out the rest of the students at Hogwarts. This year she decided that she would try and be more social. She had made some friends, especially from her own house, so she knew that this would not be as hard as she had originally thought.

As she walked through the common room, she noticed a familiar voice approaching her ears with his words. When she turned towards the sound, she recognized the young Humphrey Williams from their meeting at the Junk Shop. They had shard stories about different objects in the shop. She remembered being quite surprised by his creativity.

"Hello Humphrey," She smiled, making her way over to the boy. He seemed to be working on something, perhaps a story.
"What are you working on?" she asked.

As Humphrey saw the older girl smile back, he returned it with his own, glad that she was coming over. Perhaps she'd be able to help him get an idea for the direction this conversation between his two characters could go. After all, she had liked telling stories about objects in the shop. Maybe it wasn't too much of a stretch to think she'd be good at writing them as well, he didn't think it was. When she came over he saw her looking at what he was working on, and blushed a little when she asked about it. It wasn't often he explained to people about his story and that he would kind of like to be an author, but Anya was really nice and he felt he could trust her with the information.

Thinking about it for a moment, Humphrey reached out and handed her the picture carefully. "Well, I've been working on a story, and this one scene has been giving me problems with how I want this conversation to go. Sometimes I've found that drawing the situation helps me think it through. Basically, she is trying to talk to him after the first time he's forced to kill an enemy in a war. He needs to learn a way to cope with it, and Persephone, who goes by Sephy, is trying to help him with that. Kendrick's kind of a noble idiot a lot of the time though, so it's hard." he explained, trying to keep it as concise as possible. Looking at her a little hopefully, he motioned to the other chair. "You wouldn't happen to have any ideas would you?"

Telling anybody about his story wasn't something he ever did. Even when at home he went to great lengths to make sure Casey didn't manage a way to get it. However, when he remembered what they had talked about at the junk shop, he thought that if anybody would understand Anastasiya might. At the very least, she would be able to provide a good female perspective on the situation and maybe give him some input. Because, if there was one thing Humphrey had learned since starting Hogwarts, it was that he really didn't understand girls all that well.

Anya listened closely as Humphrey explained the story he'd been working on. The boy's ideas for the story were so intriguing to her. She had never been very good at writing long prose. She often found herself lost within the story she was writing, constantly changing the plot. Poetry was an easier way for her to translate her feelings onto paper, though sometimes that made no sense either.

'How creative,' she thought when Humphrey explained how he drew out certain scenes so that he could figure out how they should go. She had never seen any plot-helpers like this before.

Hearing what the scene was about, Anya thought back to when her mother left. Her father had been a mess and it had been nearly impossible to get through to him. He hadn't killed anyone, but he may as well have. The man had walked around the house muttering nonsense such as "it was all my fault." Soon after, he abandoned thought altogether and he drowned himself in his work.
Being alone so often made Anya run through different situations in her head. She had spent countless days thinking about what she should have said to the man to ease his guilt. She figured that perhaps telling some of these ideas to the Hufflepuff would help him with his story.

"She should try to convince him that it wasn't his fault," she said softly. He killed someone, but it was because they were at war, not because he wanted to, right? With war, it is certain that people will kill and others will be killed. He needs to know that. I think that Sephy needs to understand that he won't be back to normal anytime soon, maybe ever. She needs to focus on getting through to him, not trying to make him into who he used to be. Loss changes people." she then laughed nervously, lifting a lock of hair and twisting it around her finger. "I don't know if any of that makes sense."

Anya waited patiently for the boy to respond to her advice. She hoped that she had helped him at least a little bit. She often found herself stumped when it came to translating thought to paper, though dealing with human emotions seemed to make the work a bit easier. She was filled with relief when Humphrey told her that what she said had made sense.

"I am glad I could help," she told him. When he asked her if she was a writer as well, she shook her head slightly to the left and to the right, her brown hair sweeping along her shoulders.
"Not particularly," she responded. "I mean, not stories and stuff like that. I often write poetry, though," she opened the small leather notebook which she held in her hand.

On the first page was a rather small poem that she had written one day at a jewelry store. She remembered standing at the display window of a high end sop, staring through the glass at a multicoloured, silver necklace. She remembered wondering what kinds of emotions the piece of jewelry held.

Ruby cheeks
Opal eyes
Diamond truths
And Onyx lies

Amethyst standards
Emerald replies
Peridot snickers
And Sapphire cries

Tourmaline relations
Tanzanite skies
Garnet negativity
And a silver demise

"It makes very little sense," she laughed, handing him the page. It did make little sense, but Anya enjoyed the way it sounded and rolled off of one's tongue.

Humphrey smiled when she told him she was glad she could help. "Excellent, because I'll probably be coming to you for tips from now on." he informed her, hoping she wouldn't mind too much. There weren't that many people interested in writing that he knew, and he got along with Anya pretty well. When she shook her head and proceeded to tell him she wrote poetry he chuckled a little. "Poets are writers too, just a different kind." he said, and looked curiously at the notebook she was opening.

Taking the page she handed him, Humphrey read the poem twice as he thought about it. It was an interesting idea, but he didn't know what each of the gems were so some of the impact was lost on him. "It's kind of cool. I just don't know what all of the gems are so that makes it a little tougher to get." he admitted, carefully handing it back to her. Next time he went to the library he would definitely be looking up the different kinds of gems he wasn't familiar with. "Thanks for sharing, Anya."