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Post by Trent Frey on Feb 19, 2012 14:17:44 GMT -5
Lyric had taken his time at home, peeling off layers of dried-sweat leather before soaking himself in a cool shower. His mind had gone over and over the night before, but he still didn't regret it. If anything, he wanted it again. Maybe not so soon, but some time. It had cleansed him somehow, better than a careless weekend of vice had ever done.
He'd dressed in comfortably-worn jeans hung with chains here and there, a thin grey tee, and his boots, left carelessly unlaced, as usual. He'd left his long hair down and pulled a beanie over it, then sat on the unfolded couch and stroked Shadow for some time.
The cat had given no real reaction to the things he'd confessed in a low voice, only sat with its paws tucked beneath its body and its eyes half-closed, purring. It had been soothing, and he'd needed it.
Now, as he made his way toward the greenhouses, his mind was clearer than he could remember it being anytime in the recent past. Melody lay low on his chest, bouncing lightly against his trench coat as he walked, and he felt an odd sense of lightness. It was odd, but somehow pleasant.
He took a breath and pulled open the greenhouse door, then stepped inside, eyes scanning the contained wilderness for any sign of humanity.
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Post by Keith Evans on Feb 19, 2012 14:24:28 GMT -5
Keith had music blasting and was in his usual work clothes of dirty, worn khakis and a white tank top. He had his hair pulled back from his eyes with a thick black cloth band. He heard the door open and straightened. "Hey, over here!" he called, flicking his wand to lower the music before tucking it back behind his ear.
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Post by Trent Frey on Feb 19, 2012 14:31:29 GMT -5
Lyric's gaze flickered immediately toward Keith, his attention shifting from wondering what kind of music this was to the oddity of seeing him dressed like that. He had difficulty figuring out what was strange about it until he realized with some surprise that most of their time together had been spent without any clothes at all, excepting the hours at Broomworld, covered in coats and cloaks.
"Hey," he called back. He only stood for a moment longer before he slid out of his coat and hat, tucking the latter into a pocket. It was hot in here, and sticky, and he was glad his shirt was light. He tossed his coat onto the nearest clean surface, then pushed up his sleeves as he headed toward Keith.
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Post by Keith Evans on Feb 19, 2012 15:33:00 GMT -5
"Would it be safe to assume you were never into herbology?" Keith asked. A smile played at his lips. He couldn't hold it against anyone for hating the subject when Keith had his own personal hates when it came to education. "I won't kick you out if you say yeah, I f~ing hated the subject," he teased.
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Post by Trent Frey on Feb 19, 2012 16:03:01 GMT -5
Lyric's lips curved, just enough to count as a smile, and he dropped his head slightly, giving a little shake. "I wasn't into it, but I didn't hate it," he said. He paused to unwrap one of the many thin leather strips from one wrist, then reached up to pull his hair back at the nape of his neck. Yeah, he had a city boy's disdain for that crap, but it was tempered with other things. "We had a huge garden in Skudeneshavn. I remember parts of it." He didn't remember the names for anything, though. It was all just images.
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Post by Keith Evans on Feb 19, 2012 16:50:49 GMT -5
"Yeah? I don't know much about what grows in Norway, I haven't had the chance to travel," Keith said. Perhaps during the summer he could, he hadn't really thought about it, but he wasn't tied down for the summer as far as he knew and a tour might be good to get experience. For a moment he was lost in his thoughts.
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Post by Trent Frey on Feb 19, 2012 17:46:56 GMT -5
Lyric shrugged. There really wasn't anything to say about that. He couldn't very well talk about Norwegian plants, since he knew crap about them. That they'd had a garden was most of what he remembered. He stopped by Keith, who was somewhere in the greenhouse doing something. "What are you doing?" he asked.
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Post by Keith Evans on Feb 19, 2012 20:46:36 GMT -5
"The second years are repotting mandrakes this week, so I have to get everything set up for them," Keith said. "I know, it's just so exciting. What do you normally do during the day?" He didn't want it to turn into silence, they didn't know enough about each other for that to happen.
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Post by Trent Frey on Feb 19, 2012 21:20:40 GMT -5
"Find stuff to take pictures of," Lyric said. "Hang out in the darkroom, try to fix up the shop so maybe someone will come in." He'd been hanging pictures mostly, ignoring the obvious things like getting enough counter space and storage, and tackling the stack of frames he had propped against one wall. He tried not to think too specifically about that, not with Keith around. It just didn't feel right when the first photograph he'd hung had been over a certain small square of wall that was otherwise painted solid.
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Post by Keith Evans on Feb 19, 2012 21:50:54 GMT -5
"Yeah? I'd offer you a hand there but man I don't have much free time, and I'm going to have to start giving out essays soon, too," Keith cringed at the very thought of it, but it was a necessary evil. "How long have you had the shop?" he asked as he unstacked empty pots and set them up on the long table in the middle of the room.
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Post by Trent Frey on Feb 19, 2012 22:06:09 GMT -5
Lyric had to think about that. The past few years were a blur of vice, anger, self-hatred, and fear. He'd been surprised to realize that he was already nineteen. "A couple years?" he said at last, though it was a guess more than anything. "I had it all set up once, but... I needed money, so stuff got sold." In the end there hadn't been much more than bare walls and dirty floors.
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Post by Keith Evans on Feb 19, 2012 22:16:26 GMT -5
It seemed more and more likely that what Mano had mentioned was at least part of what Trent didn't want to talk about. "Well, you know, stuff like that happens," he said, shrugging. "I had an aunt that had to sell her house, it sucks. How close are you to having it up and going again?" He had only been through the shop area once and he had been far from wanting to examine it.
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Post by Trent Frey on Feb 19, 2012 22:21:42 GMT -5
"Everything works," Lyric said. "I've got all the potions I need to develop the pictures, a couple crappy backgrounds. I could take pictures on-site instead of the shop." He shrugged, unsure how much he really needed to put into the rooms to make the shop look professional. He had work up, and that was what people cared about, wasn't it? "I open it sometimes, but people just walk by." He didn't even know the concept of marketing, let alone that anything more than opening needed done.
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Post by Keith Evans on Feb 20, 2012 16:55:08 GMT -5
"Well, do they know about you? Have you advertised anywhere?" Keith couldn't recall ever seeing Trent's store mentioned anywhere, but he also tended not to go through Hogsmeade. It was likely he wouldn't even have known there was a photography shop if he hadn't met Trent, but he wasn't going to say so.
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Post by Trent Frey on Feb 21, 2012 1:29:09 GMT -5
Lyric shot Keith a brief look that he hoped he hadn't seen. "No." That librarian had tried to get him to advertise in the Hogwarts library, and there was no way in hell he was having anything to do with that, so that left him with nothing. He wasn't whoring himself out to the editor of Cauldron, either.
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