location: a café nestled somewhere in diagon alley status: open (@startertms)
Parvati lingered quietly before taking a seat at the corner café table, quill, ink, and empty parchment practically tumbling from her arms as they splayed out in front of her. Words continued to evade her today as her mind settled into the sounds of buzzy conversation and the gentle clinks of floating coffee cups settling at their proper table. After inspiration had largely failed to strike while at her stuffy desk at at the Prophet Office, Parvati was hopeful a change of scenery might inspire a more promising pitch for her Sunday article.
Glancing around the cafĂ©, Parvatiâs eyes land on a figure sitting at the nearest table. Amidst the bustle, she arches an intrigued brow, eyes locking in on their every move. She'd learned early on in writing career that inspiration for her best articles came from a place of truth and more often than not, truth seemed to be found hiding in plain sight.
When the figure catches her eye, Parvati doesn't look away, but rather breaks into an soft, albeit, inviting smile, "Don't mind me. I was just trying to figure out what to order." She shakes her head, "Any suggestions? I promise I don't judge."
