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Topics - Charles Neddy Palmer

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1956 / baby, it ain't easy -- camilla
« on: 04/20/2019 at 09:49 »
Under the stretching branches of an apple tree and resting on a turquoise blanket, they were a scattered mess of instruments and ribbons and recently-acquired books.  A basket of fruits sat overflowing on their left, and a small container of salted almonds to their right.  Neddy paused in the middle of the braid to pop a few of the nuts into his mouth, while Camilla told an enthralling story about her latest encounter with that small weed-boy, as she called him.

Though his fingers were fast learners, they still tangled in the ends of her hair, a little unfamiliar with the patterns of braiding.  "Sorry," he mumbled as he unraveled them, rearranging bits of her hair-- which always seemed to be a bit fluffier than humanly possible.  He bit on his lip in concentration, thinking of the movements like it were a new song he was learning.

"He said what again?"  He interrupted incredulously at a particularly heated part of the story, partially because he'd been focused on her hair, and partially because he liked the way she narrated Jeremiah.  Neddy didn't know the guy personally, but he sounded like a right dullard.  That was alright, though, because the world needed its dullards.  Neddy wondered if he, too, was one.

He finished the braid and promptly separated the twist once more, ran his fingers through the soft locks, and started again.

1956 / euphonious -- yardbird!
« on: 04/19/2019 at 19:44 »

i went to the upper year (!!) party and lupin sol was there which is pretty normal but he had to kiss me because those were the rules, so here are some notes about him:

dark dark red with bits of purple and brown.  texture of old bricks but the color of red wine, which mum likes but dad says it tastes like sour dirt-- that's how i know it's a pretty okay version of red, because dad scrunches his nose at it.

lupin seems like he sticks to things like wine, too, because when he's around you it's like you're covered in one of those self-heating blankets, and even when he walks away i can feel it warm in my lungs and on my cheeks.  mum had one of those blankets at st. mungo's.  it was pretty cool.

1956 / all my heroes -- lupin sol
« on: 04/12/2019 at 08:49 »
The Jardin Des Plantes was a lot bigger than he'd first anticipated.  At first he'd thought it was just a plain old garden-- which was fascinating by itself, with all the buzzing of fairy-bees and the rustling sounds of small creatures in the bushes-- but no, oh no.  First of all, it was huge.  Neddy bet it could fit a whole entire town in it, or even the Castle, no problem.  Second of all, it was filled with incredible statues made of grass and shrubbery, statues made of stone and marble, and even statues made partially of bamboo!  Amazing!

But the biggest of-all was the third of-all.  And that was that Neddy, who had greatly underestimated the size and complexity of the gardens, was lost.

He was currently tucked between a hedge wall and a line of various flower bushes, all of which towered over him.  He didn't even know rosebushes could be that big.  Maybe it was the magic?  He'd been walking in the same straight line for a few minutes now, and it didn't seem to have a clear ending.  As far as Neddy could see (which wasn't very far, mind you), he was stuck in an infinite hallway of colors: magenta, indigo, and every shade of purple in between.  It wasn't the worst fate in the world, but he was starting to get real tired and hungry, and he'd only brought his triangles to entertain himself.

That had gotten old ages ago.

Neddy's stomach growled loudly and he sighed away his boredom, shuffling over a couple roots and narrowly avoiding the droppings of some small animal.  Probably a squirrel.  At this point he was hardly even paying attention to where his feet were taking him, as he practically trudged across the grass and tried half-heartedly to see past all the giant lilac bushes blocking his way.  This next one seemed thinner, maybe he could--


His ankle suddenly caught on something that definitely wasn't a branch, and for a split second his feet were airborne before-- thump!-- he crashed into the ground.  Hands first, then knees, and finally his stomach and face, though mostly cushioned from the fall by his limbs.  He didn't hear any cracks from his wrist, but it sure felt like something was wrong with it, as it bent awkwardly under the weight of his ribs.  The breath was forced from his lungs, and he croaked out a crackly oof.

The moment he could breathe again, he quickly pushed himself into a sitting position, favoring his left hand, and stuck his right hand out defensively.  As if that would do anything.  He fully expected to find some angry gnome or deadly constrictor snake glaring back at him, so when he instead caught the gaze of a lounging Lupin Sol, he jumped, and then cautiously relaxed.

The Hufflepuff pressed his left wrist against his ribs in an instinctive protective gesture, but didn't seem to notice that he'd done so.  He just smiled, a bit sheepishly, at the older boy, and shrugged apologetically.  "Erm, sorry about that..."  His stomach growled again.

1956 / pas de cheval — bracken!
« on: 04/08/2019 at 10:34 »
It was lucky that Neddy wasn't especially afraid of heights, or he might not have even found this space for music in the first place, let alone used it for its full potential.  The view, not to mention the acoustics on the stairway, were spectacular.  And now, he even had another musician to share it with.

Up the stairs they trudged, Neddy heavily laden with his tenor saxophone and marching drums strapped across his shoulders, and his hands full with his tambourine and triangles and drumsticks.  Despite the weight, however, he couldn't help the determined grin that curled across his face, because it had been a long long time— forever?— since he'd convinced anyone to have a real Jam-Sesh with him.  (That's what the rocker musicians called them; they were like practice hours but more Chill and with friends, too.)

Finally, after what felt like ages of huffing and puffing, they reached the top of the tower.  It looked just the same as the last time Neddy had been up here, cleared out aside from a pair of red lounging couches and a big purple rug on stone flooring.  It was a wonder that none one else had laid claim to the spot, though Neddy suspected the long trek of stairs might be the primary culprit.

He dumped his smaller instruments and his drums on one side of the first couch and then collapsed onto the other side, limbs sprawled and saxophone leaning against his side.  The cushions were even softer than they looked— perks of a magically generated building, he supposed.  "Y'know," he mused with an exaggerated yawn, as if the climb had taken a big chunk out of his energy— it hadn't.  "You'd think, what with being wizards and all, they'd have down away with stairs completely by now."

Then he just shrugged, and with a small quirk of a smile, adjusted his saxophone so the reed rested on his tongue.  He buzzed into the mouthpiece and quickly played through the same tune he always did to warm up: the introduction of 'Louise' by Maurice Chevalier.  It wasn't much his style, but it was habit now.  Anyways, his Mum's song felt even more fitting here, atop a replicated Hôtel d'Assézat in the middle of a fabricated France.  She would've loved it up here.

"So.  What sorts of music do you play, anyhow?"

1956 / kissing the beehive — yardbird!
« on: 04/04/2019 at 12:43 »
Code: (♥♥♥) [Select]
[center][div style="width:330px; height:auto;"][div style="float:right; width:300px; height:180px;"][img width=300][/img][/div][div style="float:left; margin-top:-100px; width:250px; height:90px; background:#DACCA7; color:black; text-align:justify; font-size:10px; padding:15px; box-shadow:1px 1px 3px;"][div style="height:80px; overflow-y:auto;"]plots and things go here!!!  how they might know each other, ideas for threads, any of that stuff![/div][/div][div style="width:270px; float:left; margin-top:-10px; margin-bottom:15px; text-align:right; font-size:35px; color:#C9B680;"][gfont=Covered By Your Grace][shadow=black,right]Firstname![/shadow][/gfont][/div][/div][/center]

It hasn't been a great three years.  With the stress of being away from home, and his mother in the hospital, Neddy (or "Yardbird" if you're willing to humor him) has barely been able to focus on anything but his music.  Even his roommates could hardly catch a glimpse of him outside of sleeping and mealtimes, and he took to spending most of his time out by the lake or getting lost in the maze hedges.

This year, though, he feels a lot better.  With his Mum on her way to recovery, and his sister finally old enough for the castle, things are finally looking up.  You'll most frequently find him rat-tat-tatting on his drums, writing melodies and lyrics in his notebook, and cheerfully blaring tunes with his tenor saxophone.

Neddy's a bit odd, and somewhat timid, but friendly and eager to start the new year with a fresh batch of friends.  He likes jazz music and strange, loud noises, and thinks the days of the week and the weather have just as much personality as a person.  He looks at everyone like a seasoned artist looks at a painting, and writes poetry about just about anything.

Anyone want a piece?

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