#gry:wren

[hufflena-blog]

A Cold Surprise {Wren&Lena}

Tagged: @grywren

It had never been Lena's intention to turn the snowman into a weapon. Honestly. At most, she  wanted to give someone a shock (but a pleasant one) when they turned the corner and suddenly saw a waving snowman. And she had studied the charm she needed to use almost a bazillion times before trying it in practice. It was fool-proof!

Okay, so maybe some people would think it was somewhat childish. Building a snowman and what not. But if snow, seven black pebbles collected by the lake, a carrot stolen borrowed from the kitchens, and half an hour of pushing said snow around was all she needed to maybe get a laugh out of someone? Lena felt it was a worthy cause.

And okay, so maybe she did use more than thirty minutes because she forgot she needed sticks for its arms (how else was it supposed to wave?) and therefore spent almost ten additional minutes searching the area for sticks that had the right shape. But, and Lena could say this honestly, it might just have been the most perfect snowman she had ever laid eyes upon.

Now all that was left was to speak the incantation out loud and move her wand the right way and she was all set. With her eyes narrowed in concentration, Lena performed the spell... except the snowman didn't start waving. Instead he exploded into a huge cloud of snow splattering not only Lena but also the unfortunate person coming around the corner at that time.

With an intelligent "uuargh" Lena lifted her arms to shield her face. Standing as close to the snowman as she had, the snow hit her with enough force to make her fall backwards with another shriek. Luckily the snow secured a soft landing, but it did take a few seconds before the world stopped spinning.

"Oof."

[grymomo-blog]

trust issues, jessica x wren

( @grywren )

               a new year meant to “a new me” to most people, but to jessica bellerose—it conveyed to be the complete opposite meaning. jessica held her icy demeanour, frigid vibes and aura intact whenever she was surrounded. the ice princess, they so-called her. much to her preference, this was the best solution to her lifestyle. caring less about the opinion of others that were irrelevant and focusing more on her tasks and what she needed to do, she assured to herself to stay logical than impractical.

               in spite of her epitome, there was warmth underneath her guise. if her mask was off, she was the opposite of who she was. a girl who cared too much, burdened too much, and put those above her needs. always tense, never taking a chill pill was who she was. a overthinker, she couldn’t stop but ponder endlessly about the conflict at home. back in france, her deranged family was problematic. though, the problems were something she shouldn’t be held accountable for, but she was anyways.

               she needed a shoulder to lean on through those difficult times—wren being her confidant. miss bellerose was glad, since she didn’t trust people in general. “wren, may i talk to you?” she tugged on the hem of her friend’s long sleeve, “things have been a little hard at home lately.”

[legilimcns]

the little things ♔ anaïs ✗ wren

Anaïs fidgeted around with impatience, eyes darting occasionally between the quidditch pitch and her watch as she waited for Wren. Despite knowing her for many years, the Gryffindor was able to observe that seldom would the other girl be punctual for any of their meetings — not that it mattered anyway in the end. Wren would be Wren; no qualms there. And as much as Anaïs adored the other, undeniably there would be times like these in which Wren would test the very bounds of the Gryffindor’s tolerance. 

In fact, it had been Wren that had suggested the pair meet up today —  which only served as more of a catalyst to fuel Anaïs’s inner combustion. Despite this, she was still willing to make an assessment as to whether Wren would be capable of joining the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Although the techniques required for Wren’s position were still somewhat unfamiliar to her, the Gryffindor would stake her claim to judge based upon what she had seen Peter do during their previous games. 

Boy could he fly. 

And just as the Gryffindor was beginning to distract herself, her eyes would lock onto a figure that was approaching rapidly from the far side of the pitch. 

“It took you long enough. I promise you this next part won’t be as slow.” She calls out hesitantly, unsure of whether the incoming individual was indeed Wren. Because if it wasn’t — then by Merlin’s beard would she be in it for major embarrassment.