November 2nd, 1885 — First Year Ravenclaw Boy's Dormitory

The time after dinner was most often spent in his bed, not because he was especially sleepy but because it was the only place he could practice his charm work (and just as often, his reading) without being disturbed. He didn't like to spend any more time in the Great Hall than necessary—and why would he? He didn't have any friends, or at least none that he spoke to in any capacity outside of the class. And he liked it that way, he told himself. People were either stupid and not worth wasting his time or stuck-up pricks who couldn't pen their mouth without saying something that made his eyes roll so hard they nearly rolled back into his head.

But it appeared they didn't even need to talk to be an annoyance. He'd been sitting on top of his bed for a mere five minutes before one of his dorm-mates wandered in without a word, sat on his bed across the room, and began silently working on what looked to be a project for an art class (they had those here, didn't they?) that involved far too many paints. He knew it was too many paints, too, because he hadn't been able to concentrate on his reading when someone was so close, so he'd spent the next fifteen minutes just watching.

Subtlety, of course.

"I can't handle it," Asa said finally, his exasperated tone revealing what he wouldn't: that he'd been wanting to say something for a while. "You've got paint on your cheek and it's going to fall onto your bedsheet any minute now."

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Aristide Selwyn

The following 2 users Like Asa Scabior's post:2 users Like Asa Scabior's post
   Adrienne Lestrange, Aristide Selwyn

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It had been a year since they had been brought to this rather dismal place. The weather was hardly ever agreeable and Aristide could easily see why "English Roses" were always so pale. They had an utter lack of sun! Both himself and his twin had sun-kissed skin and Aristides hair shone so brightly, it might as well have been a sun itself. Hogwarts was at least just as enchanting as he assumed Beauxbatons must be. That did not stop him from still wishing they had gone there instead. He had looked forward to it for so long.

Aristide did not typically take notice of anyone beyond his twin. It still burned that she was in Slytherin, in a house where he was not. He did not take well to being separated from his twin. Usually when it happened, he either went out to practice his archery, his music, his poetry or his art. Sometimes, he also read.

This time, he was working on a painting. One that the art instructor had declared rather too advanced for a first year. It had felt like backhanded compliment and made Aristide feel rather out of sorts so he had retreated to his space in the dorms.

He looked at Asa Scabior at the sound of his exasperated tone. "Have I?" He said, French accent strong in his voice as he reached for a handkerchief. Aristide smiled brightly at the other boy as he wiped it off. "Have I gotten it all? I'm afraid I don't take much notice when I am painting." It was a rather bad habit but Aristide tended to live in his own head when he was on his own.

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The following 1 user Likes Aristide Selwyn's post:1 user Likes Aristide Selwyn's post
   Adrienne Lestrange

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italics means Aristide is speaking French

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French. Asa knew Selwyn was French (it was one of those things he could try to ignore) but that hadn't stop him from coming to a halt every time the boy spoke with that thick accent. He knew French—passably, at least, but not well enough to try and hold an entire conversation with a French boy, and it had always seemed like a way for pretentious people to act as though they were better than other people. Maybe that's why Selwyn merely speaking irked him more than he could have imagined, especially when he flashed a smile and acted completely unbothered.

"No, you don't have it all," he said, matter-of-factly, "It's right.... there," he explained, tracing a line on his own face from the apple of his cheek down to the left corner of his mouth. "Smeared. You look like you've got dragon's blood on your face."

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Aristide mirrored the other boys movement. "Is it still smeared all over? I would rather not look like I just battled a dragon," Aristide stated as he tried his best to get the rest off, now facing the other boy more fully. "Perhaps I'll paint you battling a dragon next." He didn't quite mean to speak the idea that had formed in his head aloud. In Aristides mind, knights had dark hair and Asa Scabior had dark hair and eyes.

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The following 1 user Likes Aristide Selwyn's post:1 user Likes Aristide Selwyn's post
   Asa Scabior

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italics means Aristide is speaking French

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All Selwyn managed to do was smear the paint down his jaw, causing Asa's nose to scrunch up in displeasure. "Yes, it's definitely still there," he said, wondering how he could have such a vibrant layer of paint on his face and still not recognize it. However, it was what Selwyn said next that caused him to roll his eyes. "Don't," he insisted, unsure of whether Selwyn had suggested the painting as a way to playfully tease him or insult him. He'd always been small—a whole head shorter than the tallest first year, and less solidly built, too. In any case, he was definitely no knight. "But really—you're only making it worse."

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"What can I do to convince you to let me. I am quite attached to the idea," Aristide said, his artistic eye taking in his yearmates features. Height didn't matter so much to him. At the current moment, height wasn't of much importance to him. Though of course that was from the perspective of a boy whose height was perfectly average at the moment. He had no way of knowing that he would one day come to grow into the looks of the very Sun God he was consistently inspired by. "Why don't you help me, then? I can feel the paint but I can't see my own phase at the moment to see precisely where I ought to wipe."

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italics means Aristide is speaking French

set by Lady!

Asa cast a deadpan look in Selwyn's direction, now quite convinced that the other boy was trying to mock him, and why not? Other students did, and usually the ones with the most success did so with underhanded compliments that he felt uncomfortable calling out. "No," he repeated, knowing that even if he liked the idea (which he didn't) that giving Selwyn even the slightest indication that he did would open himself to being teased. He simply wasn't meant to model for portraits—and that was fine.

What he was more amenable to was the chance to help Selwyn with the paint. He'd already been fighting the urge to do just what Selwyn was suggesting, so Asa wordlessly climbed from the bed, having a pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and walked across the room until he reached Selwyn's bed. He stopped at the side, not really wanting to cross into the boy's personal space. "Lean over here, then. Don't want to mess up your paints and all," he mumbled, his gaze dropping to the painting, and—oh, it really was nice. He blinked a few times, trying to envision how a painting of himself would look—you know, if Selwyn hadn't intended it as a joke, or if Selwyn really intended to make him look like a knight instead of using the painting to poke fun at him like he was. Why couldn't he have been an artist?

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Aristide couldn't help the look of disappointment. "I'll find a way to convince you," Aristide decided stubbornly, the look of disappointment melting into one of determination. Scabior had a look to him that Aristide thought would look great on canvas.

Aristide moved and leaned over so that the other boy could help him with the paint. "In my head, this painting would have you with a sword, about to face a dragon. Or perhaps on flight on the dragon through the air if you tamed it instead."

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italics means Aristide is speaking French

set by Lady!

A surge of nervousness went through him as he leaned down to brush the handkerchief across Selwyn's face. It was just awkward, he told himself. He didn't regularly... wipe people's faces, let alone rich boys who were probably plotting all the ways to embarrass him. Luckily it took only a moment to wipe away the remnants of paint, so he didn't have to worry about embarrassingly excessive eye contact or any verbal jabs, especially given that Selwyn had taken to over-explaining how he would theoretically paint him.

Theoretical, because Asa would never allow it, and even if he did, Selwyn wouldn't. He just knew it.

"All of that sounds terrifying and nothing like me," he said decisively, pulling back to stand an armlength away from Selwyn's bedside. "Why don't you just... paint Rookwood instead? You know him, right? He's a year above us, and he looks more like a knight."

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Aristide held as still as he could to allow for his yearmate to clear the paint off of his face. He was oblivious to the nerves that the other boy was going through.

"It would look amazing once I charm it to move," Aristide said in return when the boy said it sounded terrifying. "Don't you ever imagine things to be a little different than what they are?" He did. All the time, maybe a little too much. Aristide did give Scabior the benefit of actually considering it, picturing Rookwood in his minds eye. "I prefer you, I think," he said decisively after a long moment of thought.

Aristide thought nothing of how the other boy might take his words, instead focusing on packing up his paints for now before they made more of a mess.

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italics means Aristide is speaking French

set by Lady!

He didn't know how piece of artwork with him as the subject could look amazing. It wasn't that he was insecure in his appearance, but rather that he'd seen enough artwork to know that the nicest ones had the most attractive subject. He was a realist. Nothing about him wielding a sword screamed realism.

This was silly. Here he was, thinking about how he might look in a portrait, as if Selwyn intended to paint him at all! This was a joke—a prank. It was a way to tease him. He could hear Selwyn now—You actually thought I was serious!?, he'd say with a stupid white-teethed grin, and then tell all his rich friends about how he'd thought he could ever belong in a portrait.

Even if he wanted to believe it was true—and it would have been so easy, with how good Selwyn was at sounding genuine and how the words I prefer you made almost feel worthy—he wouldn't let himself. He'd already made up his mind.

"Maybe another time," he said, trying not to sound too bothered.

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Aristide was willing to accept that answer for now. It was no longer an outright rejection. Aristide hoped that he could eventually wear the boy down. He didn't usually hyperfocus on any one subject if they weren't immediately up for it. But in this instance, he was quite invested in seeing it come to reality.

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italics means Aristide is speaking French

set by Lady!