@rove-bogge ( continued from here ):
[ ... ] This is where you think he spot the sleeping third year…but for a brief moment his eyes went skywards as he tripped over long legs and the open jar in his hands fell. In slow motion like a car crash he watched as the jar tipped and fell right onto Leona Kingscholar himself. Covering the man in the sticky sweet liquid. “Ah!” Was all he could say as he felt the cold grip of death on his shoulder as he realised the horrendous mistake he just made. “AH!” He screamed covering his mouth taking a step back. “Y-you!! Um you shouldn’t sleep where people are walking!” He barked while inside he was screaming. ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? ARE YOU TRYING TO PISS HIM OFF MORE?!?!?’ “I’m not apologising this is your own fault! If your going to sleep somewhere sleep in your bed!” His mouth kept running….why was it still running. He knew he was one of the more if no the most outgoing Ignihyde student but right now he was screaming inside as he dug his own grave even more.
of the wide range of locations across night raven’s campus, the botanical gardens were a tough spot to beat out in terms of ideal midday nap spots. they were quiet, out of the way, and, owing to the nature of the place itself discouraging huge and noisy crowds, not usually too infested with people stomping and screaming all over the place. over the almost five years leona’d been attending the university, he couldn’t be bothered to recall the names of the classes he’d taken before, but he had a keen knowledge of which days the gardens were least likely to be disturbed.
on top of that, though, it was the one of the few places that boasted open ventilation, ample natural light, and the permeating scent of flora. it was missing dusty rock and shortgrass and a breeze, but it was enough to ensure a better rest than just about anywhere other than his bed.
who knew what the leonine housewarden dreamt of, all the time he spent asleep. he kept almost perfectly still, close to inanimate but for the steady rise and fall of his back. the occasional twitch of an ear, as though in some unconscious anticipation of the impending disaster that strode closer down the pathway, a teetering gallon of honey cradled in both arms.
the stumble into his outstretched legs itself wasn’t enough to warrant more than a grunt, eyelids barely fluttering.
but it was the crash of pottery that snapped his eyes open, not yet lucid but feral, one hand already poised to grab and strike at the assailant—
until in the snarl pulling back his lips, he tasted something thick and golden sweet — honey? — only for it to slowly dawn that it touched not only his tongue but was slathered across his back and right arm too, peeling as he bemusedly unclenched his fist like webbing between his palm and fingers. summer greens, half-awake, lift to the source of the incoherent barking assaulting his ears at the same time — some disheveled-looking kid raving like it’d save his skin — and harden as a growl takes shape in his chest.
he rises to a crouch, viscous gold rolling off him in thick strings. honey-coated hand flies out to twist in the other boy’s jacket, dragging him in. “you tellin’ me where to sleep? funny, i don’t remember this place being your territory.” he sniffs once, wrinkling his nose at the stench of threadbare cloth and bugs. gross. “i’m in a good mood today—” he isn’t, but it wouldn’t make a difference to a kid who didn’t have the sense to look where he was going, “—so you have five seconds to tell me why i shouldn’t rearrange your face here to make up for my uniform.”
