#the second is me

[gaysonlyocean]

Simulacra is a great game but what's even better is El Terriblé utterly butchering it

[toofarawaytoseethefallout]

Observation

Some people take millions of selfies but rarely share them, and some people only take selfies if they're gonna share them.

[smythewillslytherin-blog]

Whistling blackbirds and the sun of October; or you had me at Cello || Sebastian: Open

Old buildings tend to either each or absorb noise depending on their architecture. Hogwarts being not only old but also distinctly magical it seemed to change it's mind on how a laugh or a footstep traveled. There were times when if you walked alone along the corridors then you were walking on the softest of carpet for not a sound could be heard. Other times your steps reverberated and seemed to grow louder, Merlin help you in those times if you sneezed. 

Similarly with crowds the sound of bustling students chattering and moving from class to class could be amplified to deafening or somehow kept to a non-damaging volume. It didn't always comply to the laws of Physics or even of Arithmancy that Sebastian knew but he knew the temperamental nature of the many charms set in the walls and fixtures of the castle. He'd frequently make a non-chalant comment about how amusing it would be if a charm wore thin, spells become more efficient as the years go by and some of them were from the days of Hogwarts being built. He hoped the professors would understand his reverse psychology but to no avail. 

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Today the halls were quiet, he had a free Monday morning and knew very few would have gone down to breakfast yet. He passed by the kitchens to impose on the house-elves for some food. They always nearly passed out with excitement when he talked to them without cursing their name, though some of them he felt might prefer if he hit them as it was what they expected from Purebloods. 

Breakfast prepared at lightning speed was presented to him and he refused their tentative pleas for him to let them clean his shoes or 'did Sir want an extra hot water bottle in his bed tonight Sir?' He told a couple of them they were less than worthless and they stopped urging him to stay. He suspected they knew he did it on purpose but didn't think much more of it. They were dull creatures, they had personalities, but like many humans had personalities, they were still boring and simple. 

Finally reaching the first musical practice room, devoid of life and sound except for the stirring of portraits and marble busts upon his entrance Sebastian drew his cello from the side room where instruments were stored. 

As he set up he heard the sleepy muttering of the painted and sculptured composers and musicians as they tried to discern which student was there so early.

Not many students liked the first music room. It was where the more discerning artists' representations were placed. The ones who wouldn't fight with each other in their portraits but who had doubled up as critics in their lives. 

They would sniff and cough rudely if you were playing badly, or even just playing something they didn't approve of because of artistic differences. 

They did offer the best advice though. You had to wade through the affectations of speech it to get to it but it was usually very useful. 

It was Sebastian's favourite room, rarely used and filled with people who's opinion mattered telling him where to correct himself and if not then highly educated people to have blazing arguments with over which was a better approach to the piece. 

The Slytherin cracked his fingers and warmed up, sawing through a few souped up scales till he was in the zone. "Happy Birthday Paul," he called out, voice loud in a room of hushed sleepy mutterings and the fading of a B flat. He launched into a re-arranged version of La Danse Macabre smiling as the muttering faded and the rich sound of his playing filled the room.