Keep your head up high [Open]

[Haushinka Rhian]

Hogwarts always seemed to welcome Haushinka, even though she didn't go to any lessons when planned. Maybe it was their way of saying 'Hey, Shinka, you've been a good girl and helped save people from themselves, here, miss out on your education and we'll turn a blind eye!'
Either way, the Gryffindor didn't really mind. She was meant to be in Ancient Runes or something like that, but instead, she was wasting education on a painting.

So far, it was still bland and didn't resemble any proper object of any sorts. But it wasn't really meant to, the assortment of oils were dabbed randomly, ranging from icy cyan's' to heat-filled crimsons'. Some of the contrasting splodges and daubs made up shapes of fighting demons, dark vs. light. This didn't reflect anything, she was past all the inside battling and fighting. After all, she was the peacemaker. And it wouldn't do for a peacemaker to act like a war monger.

Though it was Winter, she sat there in a dress, ripped in places and holding a Victorian feel to it, though the sewn on bleeding hearts were a contrast to that.
Huffing, Shinka blew the strands of dark pink hair out of her green eyes, very annoying indeed.
As she reached for a new paintbrush, she fell off of the stool that she perched upon. Luckily she didn't knock over the canvas, but she did feel pretty damned stupid.

[sun]

Napeir had been quickly moving his way along, not bothering to pay much attention to anyone. Though the "anyone" was no one, he wanted to get back to his dorm so he could continue reading his books. Almost every other student was in class, a few talking or late here and there but they didn't care. They saw this as social hour, he saw this as a chance to progress in his book. He had very little friends here so thats all he would do, read his book, get a few mean looks from some of the "all that" students. They themselves would be ignorant while he progressed in his classes and moved up the list.

Passing by the art room he remembered that the teacher had a book for him, just a old book on the drawings of the ancients. Slowly stepping into the room he moved over to his desk, the teacher had said that it would be left there for safe keeping while he was occupied. Pulling out the book, which was mighty dusty, he wiped it off to read the cover.

Magical Art and the Magical Artists

From what he figured it was about how magical art was formed and who came up with the idea. Most people that he knew would frown upon it but he grasped this knowledge with highly concentrated mental awareness, he found almost all subjects in general interesting. Running his hand through his dirty blond hair he turned to walk out, but a loud crash form the back stopped him. Running back into the drawing area of the room he saw a girl with dark pink hair on the ground, next to her lay a paintbrush and a tipped over stool. Approaching her slowly he held his hand out to her, his black cloak revealing the tribal design that almost seemed to dance around his wrist.
"You ok" he asked, his Navy blue eyes filled with a mix of worry and curiosity.