Emilia glared at her brother with a smile. She slid the chess piece across the board and grinned.

"King me!" She laughed.

"You say that in checkers, you idiot," Elek rolled his eyes and got up, just to sink back down onto one of the couches in the Slytherin common room.

Emilia whispered, "whatever", under her breath and slid onto the couch next to Elek as the chess pieces magically put themselves back on their appropriate squares. "What do you want to do until cla.ss starts?"

"Stay away from you," Elek said with a smirk, while Emilia pouted jokingly.

((AH! Must make thread LIVE!))

Alex staredat the notes written up his arms. He could write with both hands, and though he often prefered to use his right, it too was covered in notes. Most of it was english, all of it so that he could keep his words straiter. He hadn't had to speak English in so long, and both his parents had still spoken German at home. Now Alex was just as lost for words as he was for cl*censored*. He was thankful that, unlike Durmstrang, there where long p*censored*ings between each cl*censored*. No doubt this school would take some getting used to.

When twice Westley had failed to recover directions from the native students, Westley sighed and demoted his pride even further. Alex withdrew the new peice of parchment from his wolly Durmstrang coat and observed it. After wandering in circles for a minute and a half, Wes finaly learned where he was. With a sigh, he decided to follow  the marks to the Slytherin Common room. Maybe there he could get peice.

On the way, Alex couln't help but to take out a quill and scribble out some English words, replacing them wth German characters that he was so much more accostomed to. It took about 20 minutes before Wes reached the dongens, p*censored*ing only a small pack of snickering Slytherin girls and a pair of daring Hufflepuff whom where later scared off by a tall, white- haired figure. (To this Wes payed little attention to. He knew this was one of his teachers, but was still affraid of striking a conversation due to the language barrier.)

When, at long last, Wes reached the large, snake- encrested doors, he sighed and whipped his brow with the tip of the fur of his Durmstrang coat. It was then he relized what an odd sight he looked: He was wearing the Hogwarts robes, a simple, boring black with blue jeans underneath. His silver and green emroydery patch was obscewared by the thin, summer- style Slytherin scarf in its simple pattern of green, silver, green, silver... On top of all this was his thick, winter Durmstrang coat, covered in beautifully stiched fur. While the outside was muscrat, the lining pelts where of otter and the inside of beaver. It was beautiful and , of course, made from magic. Not one animal was hurt, but was only bald for about a week. Not to mention, he had his thin leather braclet tightly laced about his left wrist and what of his hair was tied back in another leather strip.

Slowly, Westley undid the knott in his hair so that the black strands fell off to his shoulders. He shoved the leather strip in the inside pocket of the fur coat before stipping that, too, and draping it over his left arm. With his free right, he brushed out the thin robes that he hadn't quite gotten used to. His top secret hidden well, Alex held his breath without a sound and opened one, heavy door, prepared to be given odd glares and whispers from the other Slytherins.

Dravius yawned loudly, draping himself over the couch, long robes brushing the floor. A few dark haired girls swept by, tittering and looking at him with half lidded eyes. The reason for this was probably because he was lying on the couch without a shirt, his thin chest showing through the robe. He lifted his head and yawned again as a tall, forgien-looking boy walked through the door. This must be the student he was supposed to show around, Alex something. He stood up and stretched, gazing at the boy with a thick fur coat draped over his arm. "Hello." He said simply, looking Alex up and down. "Welcome to Hogwarts..." Dravius said boredly, holding out a limp hand. His black hair was messy, and some of it hung over his mismatched eyes. "Names Dravius Wolfe. Nice ta' meetcha." When he smiled, his teeth were slightly pointed, and his nails, although not long, were sharp.

Dravius was not wearing a scarf, and looked over the strange boy in front of him. He seemed to be toting a Durmstrang coat, so Dravius surmised of a German origin. Although his body was long, his fram was strong and his green eyes lidded. He did not like the new boy, and he hated that it was his job to show him around and help him out.

At the first sound of another voice, Alex whipped around, dropping his coat, lowering his upperbody and letting out a deep, wolf- like snarl. Once, of course, he relized it was just another student, Alex quickly grabbed his coat and snapped back upright. He dusted the dust off of the fur coat and flicked his head to that his hair resllipped back into his face, leaving a single bright eye to glare at the English boy, a little younger than he was.

Westley eyed the other cautiously, up and down before returning to glare into his face again. When the other smiled, Alex did, too. His teeth, quite white, where rather sharp and large on the fore- sides. His smile faded a little as he continued to brush off the dust. When the male, who caled himself Dravius, stopped talking, he lifted the sleves of his robes, revealing many layers of pale scars and black ink in German letterings. He glanced at the notes before again rolling down his sleeves, turning back t the boy and speaking.

Through his voice, it was fairly easy to tell that though Wes had trouble with English, he listened and had practiced offen. He stumbled on few words and recovered quickly. Most of his speach was delightfully fluent, and it was releif to his own ears as Alex spoke them: "You need not force upon a smile. I am Westley Alexander Kaos." He gave an slightly akward smile.

Alex felt his cheeks get hot, then his stomach turned. How embarasing. As if he hadn't been socially akward enough, this was happeing. Westly gave a descrete sigh and forced himself to focus on something else. After a moment, he finally noticed Dravius's eyes. While one was gold, the other was a sort of rouge. Wes found some odd comfort in this. Somehow, his secret seemed a little less embarasing. A little calmer, he said with a chuckle, "Hai, I was called 'Leo' quite abit, too. Long story back."

Dravius jumped a bit at the snarl produced from the new kid's mouth, and dropped his hand as the boy recovered, brushing dust out of a large fur coat. Noticing all the writing covering Wesley's forearms, obviously in German. So he was right in as.suming this Wesley Alexander Kaos was from Durmstrang. This conformation was furthered in the thick accent that coated the other's tounge as he stated his name. After Wesley's comment, Dravius did indeed drop his smile, then turned and headed for the boy's side of the dorms. A few girls whispered st the arrival of a reletivly attractive new boy, tittering and smiling coyly at him. "Come on, Wes, we're taking you to your room."

Dravius flicked his unruly hair out of his face and let out a sharp toothed yawn, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry. I just got up." He said, rubbing his one red eye. His gold one studied the Durmstrang boy carefully, taking in his obvious discomfort in the thin summer robes of Hogwarts, and the scarf wrapped liberally aroung his neck. "When'd they make you wake up at Durmstrang?" He asked with yet another yawn, placing a hand over his mouth.

Name:Hayley (Likes to be called 'Owl') williams

Age:Teen

Personality:Like all Gryffindor students, brave. Very brave.

House:Gryffindor

Year:  3

Looks:

click="return DWait.readyLink('jms/pages/art/deviation.js', this, 'Deviation.zoomIn()')">

Pureblood, Half-Blood, or Muggle Born?: Unknown

Westley walked slowly, taking in every surrounding in leasure as he eyed the many marbled snakes swirling around seemingly every door and chair. He was a little taken aback by the question, not exactly sure how to answer. He let himself a moment to choose his words, then another moment to traslate them. "The cla$ses are very different here, and we could attened, for the most part, any cla$s at any time. I woke up at about 5 AM everymorning, except on holidays,"

He knew that to the Hagwarts students, this seemed almost, if not entirely, insane. To Westley, however, this was rather logical. The quicker he awoke, the quicker he could resume his leasure. Therefore, he could spend many hours completing tasks in the warmth of day rather than staying up untill the wee hours of morn doing homework. No doubt this new school would take more getting used to. Under his breath, he muttered a few choice German words. These translated roughly to, "I don't understand why we couldn't stay..."

ooc; recap? I'll help I guess. :P

((I don't think you missed much. Mostly we've introduced our charas and are kinda exploring their personalities. Dravius is showing Westley around the Slytherin room, and he's having difficulty hiding his secret. That's about it.))

Upon entering, the wolf rug was the first thing Westley saw. Immediately he scowled, and let out a low growl from his thoat. He was outraged at such a thing, a pack brother sleeping forever in a dorm- how would Westley sleep comfortably for a meere night? At Dravius's instrusctions, Wes tried to push the thought away and walked over to his bed.

Upon uttering a "thank you," Wes slid the wolly Durmstrang coat off his arm and hug it on the bed's fore- North post, near his head. He eyed the window near the nightstand. The view of Brittan was nothing like Germany's. He eyed it for only a seccond as he slipped his left, pale and scared hand into his pocket and tossed a miniature trunck on the bed. He pulled out his wand and gave a casual flick of the wrist. Immediately the trunk that had hidden in his fingers became full- sized. Through magic, it flung open. Within it where strapped an older, German model broom, robes, books, a bit of muggle wear and a verry warn German- English dictonary. Next to this anchient looking book was a large sketchbook, parchment and papers overflowing from the covers.

Westley's wand was 11 3/4 inches with aged, white silver oak. The interior was developed of Dragonheartstring and Pheonixdown. Because of this, the handlehad a slight red tint, and where it meet the stick there was a small bronze ring renforcing the weld. It had turned a near copper color over the years.

This wand costom made for Wes's grip, was immediately turned and pointed at the wolf rug, stirring. Wes bared his teeth, marble white and rather sharp like a stero- typical American vampire. A deep, threatening growl eminated and echoed about the room, similar in tone but slightly louder than the one he had produced when Dravius had scared him. The higher the wolf skin rose, the lower Westley sank. Withing moments, he was balanced perfectly in a low crouch, his left hand presssed to the floor, wand hand at the ready. The growl was quieter now, but still aparent.

The wolf looked Westley over with a clever, yellow eye. Westley, in turn, watched this thing with a cautious, emerald- blue eye. He crouched in a locked position, ready for an attack, pounce or some form of harmful action.

The wolf yawned and glared at Wesley, muscles stirring under a ash-grey coat. It liftd it's lip slightly and let out a small growl, feet planted. Dravius studided the meeting warily, mismatched eyes glancing at the facing off males. "That's Fenrir." He said quietly, and the wolf paced stiff-legged to Wesley, then snorted and deemed him not worth it's intrest, turning it's back to lie before the fire.

Dravius gestured to the sketchbook lying on the bad and asked slowley, "What do you draw?" He tilted his head, black hair obscuring half of his face. "Do you paint?" He inquired, as the wolf padded over to curl near the Slytherin boy's feet. Dravius gave a slight bark and the wolf snorted in reply, laying his head on his paws. The sleepy Slytherin's intrest semed sparked, and paired with Wesley's eccentric behaviour, Dravius was very curious about the new boy at school, with his odd teeth and animalistic behaviour.

((I tried to type his acsent. It may help to sound it out. Sceches are below. Art (c) to origonal artists!!)) 

Westley slowly stood, relaxing inly a little. It took him several seconds to rase back to his ful height. He nodded and walked back to his bed, tring to ignore the rush of blood that flooded his face. He grabbed the book, shoved some parchments inside the front cover, and tossed it over to Dravius, hoping he would catch the old thing.

"Hai." He said, hoping his hair would cover the blush in his face. "I study Chinese and Japanese brush painting. Trees 'nd things mostly, but, er, I kinda strays awaw from zhat." He paused, wondering what exactly was on those loose papers. "I also does quite abit of pen and inks. It's more time zen it's worth, but I enjoy it. I aszume you paint? Elze you would not inquire."

The color in Wes's face slowly began to fade, but his skin still felt hot to him. He slid of the thin Hogwarts robe, revealing the black silk long- sleeves, emborbened with the Slytherin colors and patch on the left side. He tossed the robe onto the bed with his wand on top, and pushed up the shirt sleeves. Black pen ink covered layers of scars with both German and English characters. His sin was pale white, scars both old and new almost pink against his muscles.

"Hiano..." Westley tried to keep calm. "I faought alots when I vas little. Faszur hits me sometimes. He's alvays drunken." When Dravius caughed, he looked over, causing his left sleeve to fall beofre he pushed it up again. He briefly wondered what caused this upset and sudden discomfort. He felt stupid for asking the question, but felt it would be curtious. "Are vou ill?"

Under his breath, without even moving his lips, Westley uttered, "Tue es nur ja nicht! Ich bin nicht woelfe...." This translation echoed in his mind continuously. Please dont find out! I am not a wolf.... Not a monster...

((Sorry, I'm exousted. I havn't slept well lately.))

((No prob. I understand.))

Dravius waved his hand in the air and said, "No, I'm fine, I'm fine. It's a terminal illness." Dravius ran his hands through his hair and looked up and asked quickley, "Did you say something?" Fenrir trotted over to Westley and whined again, brushing up against his legs, tail between his legs, although the wolf could not understand his words. Dravius looked through his hair at Wes, wondering why it was the wolf like him so much. Usually all the wolf did to aknowledge other was snarl and howl.

"Hiano, no, no!" Said Westley a little too quickly. Carefully he reached down and patted the wolf's upper neck. He knew all too well that any wild dog didn't like beeing stroked on the head. That's what gave him his condition in the first place. He then took half a step back then turned half way around, as if to say, This is your terratory as much as it is mine now. I want no trouble.

"I'm sorry about vour illness." He said, reaching into the depths of his trunk now. This was mostly text books, but also contained rather bulky boxes of paints, brushes, quills and sixteen different kinds of inks. He opened the small dwar at the nightstand and opened the box containing the different inks. One by one he began to place the fragile things inside. "I can sort of relate."

Tenderly he opened another old box, falling apart at the corners, and began to place the seven different brushes in a seprate place, separating the different kinds and sizes. He ended up placing his two favorite on his lips, rolling them in as to keep the moisture off. He gave a wan smile, hoping to cheer the other a bit. The company, though a little akward, was somehow comforting. Even Fenrir, whom he had snarled at upon arrival, seemed somhow warm. Stupid wolf, he though to himself. I'm craving for a pack as much as any animal might.

He almost cracked a smile, but Wes stopped himself as to not drop his brushes from his lips.

Dravius looked suspicicous, but his bright eyes left Westley and closed as he yawned for a last time. He opened his eyes as Wes stated his relation. "How so?" He asked the German boy. Dravius's suspicions were creeping into his mind, and it showed on his face, through eyes that constanly studied the other boy. Dravius watched through his thick hair, red and gold eyes shining. The young boy's eyes followed Westleys moves as he unpacked art supplies, through putting delicate vials of ink into the nightstand. As the german boy patted the ash-grey wolf, Dravius blinked quickly and moved his eyes away from Westly Alexander Kaos. He flashed a thin smiled and lay down on his bed, staring at the green bed canopy and closing his eyes, listening for anymore fast german phrases from the boy opposite him.

Fenrir looked up at the other boy, confused at the boy's mixed scent, which seemed to be human, like the other in the room, but every so often, a tendril of wolfish scent would trail off of him, filled with anxiety and fear. Fenrir whined and licked the wolf boy's ankled, trying to comfort him. He awknowledged Westley's submission with dull response, and went back to licking his ankles, whining and rubbing against his legs.

"Erm," Said Westley, taking the brushes off his lips and sliping them into the drawr as well. "Ven I vas in Germany, I became very seck. Even after the fever left, I lost control ov my tempeer. Ven my father thought it vas my end, we moved here for medical treatvent."

Yep. That was his story and he was sticking to it. It was mostly true. Westley didn't like to tell it, but it was better than the truth. There was no way he could go to Bobaton, and he couldn't let his father teach him anymore illegal magic with a lashing between each spell. He would have to do well here, even if that ment being friendless and alone the next two year.

"Hai!" He jumped in surprise as he felt Fenrir's tounge on his skin, just as scared as his arms. The shook turned to a warm chuckle as he again reached down and stroked the beast. He whispered a string of German into its ear, traslating roughly to, "I know you can smell my differance."

Westley stood again, taking a half- step away, then back again as he continued ogranizing parchments. (This was probably one of his weak points. His home was always a mess, except of course, for his room. It wasn't spotless, but nearly everything had a place.) He gave a warm smile as he gave a look back to Dravius, laying now. As he turned back he said to him, "I von't pester vou much longer. I'm going to explore a bet before bed. I've no memory for zese halls."

((You mean Bouxbatons?))

"Oh. That's a shame." The black haired Slytherin said warily, still suspicious. He flopped back down onto the bed, listening to Westley shuffle his supplies around the drawer of the bedside table. "Pester me?" Dravius snorted, sitting up. "You're the only one who has said more than three words at a time to me in my five years at Hogwarts. Apparently people get unnerved when they notice me observing them. I'm just trying to figure them out." The boy said, resting his chin in his hand and sighing. "My looks don't help, either. All everyone does is whisper about the freak who stares uninvited with mismatched eyes." Dravius said, covering each eye in turn, first showing the angrey crimson one, then the eeriely cold golden one. "It's a bummer, really." Dravius said, standing up. "And this is my room, too. You're bunking with me, duh."

Fenrir pricked his ears and thumped his tail on the ground as Wes jumped, and muttered something in a strange language, certainly not wolf. The wolf-boy was nice, and seemed like he was going to stay awhile. A series of deep barks issued from his muzzle, sounding a bit like amusement. Fenrir sniffed at wolf-boy's trunk, whiffling his nose across the bottom of it. Satisfied, he padded over to Wes's bed and curled up on it, taking up the top half of the bed contentedly.