inspiration took a turning point here and there, with a sketchbook on his lap and quill running precise strokes across the paper. this time, his work challenged him to go by memory and not with the scenery in front of him. with the seasons changing and weather shifting, it was almost too cold for edward to sit outside on the grounds for long periods. a seat in the common rooms by the fire sounded like the better option, warmer and more comfortable than its counterpart, but it also served as a distraction of sorts when those other house mates of his would barge in with their boisterous conversations. that was okay, as long as his landscape was turning out satisfactory on his page.
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