Disheveled and De-shelved |Rhea|

[james]

The smell of musty books was a faintly familiar scent as Starke moved down the aisle. Truth-be-told, Starke probably wouldn’t have ventured into the library if he had been at school for the last month… and if he had, he probably would have had no reason to be there now.

With his current condition, however, he was starting to worry about his predicament. It was starting to get a little dangerous with exploding toilets and rags. Who knew what was going to happen next. And with any luck, something was in there to prevent his otherwise destiny.

His finger skimmed over the spines of endless books, finding no inspiration. Perhaps he was just doomed. And if he wasn’t sure of this before, doubt was instantaneously put to rest. A slight sliding sound grabbed his attention in time to make him look up and notice the first onset of attack. Shortly, books were shooting from their places and bombarding his body. His feet picked up at once, and he was sprinting out of the aisle for the safety of the tables and chairs.

A rogue book, seeming to be more dedicated than the rest, knocked him on the back of the head as he was about to reach his destination, and set him flying forward off balance and landing against the nearest person.

[rhea]

In her mind, the whole essence of a Library was pleasing to the senses. The odor of ancient texts, the tactile sensation of the book bindings, the color of the yellowed pages, in fact, the only unpleasant thing about the place was how prone they were to having dust mites. She wasn't allergic, but they irritated her to no end. As she moved down the aisles, she rapped the knuckle of her index finger on the shelves, emitting a light tapping sound as she went searching for a book - any book really, so long as it looked to be an interesting read.

After what seemed like a half-dozen sets of overflowing cases, an odd book caught her eye. It looked old, yes, but still practically new, rather than the standard well thumbed. Pulling it from its previous residence, which from the dust that had settled around it seemed like it had sat there for quite some time, to see that it was on the subject of Magical Theory. Rhea mulled it over, and decided that it could be interesting, and given its hefty weight, would keep her occupied for some time. She mused on it for a minute, wondering why it had remained untouched so long when the applications for it where quite helpful.

She had been walking back to a table, intent on starting her book immeadiately when an odd noise came to her ears. A dull thudding, which sounded like someone was dropping books on the floor, but the thought flew fast from her mind, after all, anyone here longer than a day wouldn't be so foolish as to do that in this Library. Turning, she figured it wasn't all that important, and layed her book on the table and her bag on the floor beside said table before she sat down. Rhea didn't actually get to sit down though, because she had been more or less tackled by an unseen force, which pushed her from standing to being sprawled on the ground.

Had she been paying more attention, she'd have seen a certain Starke Diggory darting towards her and more importantly, the book chasing him. But now that she had been thrown to the floor, she merely let out a surprised yelp, unsure as to what had happened, and cleary confused. Taking a few moments to take in the figure above her, it took her a few more to try and place a name to the face, but any guesses she could have made escaped her. Now, most people would comment on being thrust onto the ground, but not Rhea - she was rarely confrontational. A mere, "Where's the fire?" escaped her lips, which had formed a smile, realizing that she had finally had a reason to use the cliche in correct usage.

[james]

Being bombarded with books just seemed to be more proof towards Starke’s growing hunch that these horrible things happening around him had something to do with his magical abilities working against him. He just wished that he could figure out how to keep it at bay. There had to be some reason that his being was emitting magic set out to harm and humiliate him. Or he was being haunted by the long-time heckler, Peeves. It would not be the first time that that poltergeist gave students problems, but Starke had never heard of him following a particular one around to torment them. That idea was laid to rest and gave room to reflection of the throbbing in the back of his head.

The books had since all fallen to the ground, and it looked a bit like a destruction zone. The battered books, or rather the battering books, lay haphazardly all over the ground; if the librarian saw this she was going to be thrown into conniptions. He’d probably be banned for life. That’s okay; a lot of students would probably be glad for such an excuse to stay out of there. Not all of them, apparently.

The girl he had accosted with a body of increasing momentum and decreasing balance seemed the type to be in here for leisure. If being knocked to the ground was her idea of sport, then she was in the right place today. Starke had been saved from the fall partly due to the hard contact to her smaller frame, but also because he had managed to grab onto the table (which was coincidently and justifiedly fixed to the floor by magic). He took the quiet moments to regain his composure and glance down the aisle of seemingly harmless books. He was catching his breath when she finally spoke.

He turned his grey eyes to the ground, feeling instantly sorry for the incident. Though he was not really at fault, surely. How did one explain exactly that they were the torment of their own being, and destruction not lay in his path at ever turn? He could only come up with an apologetic little look, as he reached out his hand towards her. “Don’t mention it. I might just find out.” He uttered, hoping that an accident with fire was no where in his future. "Go ahead, take it." He urged, nodding towards his hand. "I don't intend you harm, anyways."

[rhea]

Rhea had, thus far, not had any encounters with Peeves, and was quite glad for that. She would not particularly have the skills to defeat a terrible prankster of a poltergeist. Especially when she had heard that he liked to dump water on students combined with the practically frigid temperature in England would effectively spell hypothermia for any student he could possibly be at war with.

Watching as the boy righted himself on the table before offering her his hand, she smiled, gingerly taking it as she lifted herself of the floor. Her eyes studied his face - he didn't seem to be malicious, so she could easily believe that he meant what he said. Rhea's gaze shifted immeadiately to the books which littered the floor behind him, a quizzical look settling upon her face. "What...happened?" she inquired, before continuing, "And is everything okay?"

Her voice had indeed been sincere, she was still not used to all the odd things that could happen around here, so she assumed that someone had been throwing the books at the boy. Perhaps an angry girlfriend, or, just as likely in this school, boyfriend had gotten violent in the middle of the Library and used the most readily availible weapon. Of course, if that were the case, the Librarian would no doubt go nuclear when she saw the careless manner they were lying on the floor. She then decided to add a quick introduction before she broke the hand-to-hand contact. "I'm Rhea by the way."

[james]

[ooc: “and destruction not lay in his path at ever turn?” … how could you not tease me about that. XP]

Starke felt wretched that his extremely ill luck as of late should harm another person; at least thus far it had only affected him. But now this otherwise innocent young woman had fallen victim to his misfortune. He hoped dearly that it was not contagious, but they had eventually determined at St. Mungo’s that he wasn’t. Still, it was not exactly like they had figured out what was wrong with him. And it was probably rather arrogant of him to think that he should be able to stumble across the answer in the library, when they were trained doctors.

When she took his hand, Starke could not help but note how delicate a touch she had. It was an empowering feeling, as was the case with all girls who did not try to be physically dominant over him. He appreciated that she was not one of the types who were so self-conscious that they had to act tougher than guys; girls like that could be so overwhelming… especially if they really could give him a run for his money.

Glancing back again, Starke wondered if he shouldn’t whip out his wand and clear things up… but a part of him was afraid to, especially in the presence of watching eyes. What if he messed up? Or worse, what if nothing happened at all? He felt as helpless as a muggle now, or at least how he presumed a muggle would feel. He cleared his throat, feeling a little awkward now about the fact that he had not let go of her hand first. “Starke. I’m Starke… Diggory.” He felt uneasy, if it was not quite obvious from his unnatural tone in telling her his name… as though he was not sure of the fact. “Sorry about… erm… knocking you down.”

[rhea]

She'd never been one to try to overpower anyone, physically, anyways. Mainly because she was not strong enough to dominate anyone bigger than a first or second year. There were other ways that superiority could be shown, if it had to be done at all - sometimes just knowing that you could do better than another person was enough.

Noticing that he wasn't excusing himself to continue running away, Rhea deduced he probably wasn't running from anyone, but her brows knit as she tried to fathom how the books had been thrown if no one was there. For a moment, she thought about the common smuggle phrase about how something 'didn't get there by itself' but here it was completely plausible. Offering him a sympathetic look, she also decided that she'd offer him a hand. "So, uh... Do you need some help?" she said, her tone sincere as she motioned toward the varied tomes that sprinkled the floor in disarray.

It took the Hufflepuff a second to digest his introduction - not because of any sort of hesitation, but something else. Starke...she knew that name. The thought danced around just beyond the edges of recollection until she caught site of a newspaper sticking out of a rubbish bin, when the thought hit her. "Oh, you're the one who dissappeared. I read about you coming back," she paused, before adding, "Oh, and don't worry about bumping into me. I'm a bit of a klutz, anyhow, so I'm used to it. Falling, that is."

[james]

The books seemed to cease offending him with their brutality, so there was no need to flee. Except, perhaps, so he would not be caught next to the scene of the crime. This was sure to look wrong. Books did not just launch themselves off their cozy shelves to bombard students. Not unless your name was Starke Diggory, apparently. Very strange and unusual things, even for Hogwarts were now happening. Worse than stepping through a vanishing stair step on a forgotten Friday.

“Yeah, I suppose something ought to be done about it before the librarian freaks out.” He said indifferently, his tone indicating that she should clean the mess up. He really hoped she did not see the impression of his wand in his loose pocket, because if she said something he planned on lying and saying he forgot his wand.

He got uncomfortable again when she mentioned that he had been the one to go missing. Biting his bottom lip, he rubbed his neck for a little distraction as he deliberately ignored the comment. “Have a problem with just randomly doing a face plant, eh?” He tried to joke, but his voice was a little too serious, considering his previous thoughts. “Klutz seems to be an understatement for me right now. Cursed would be more fitting.”

[rhea]

Disappearing stairs had, since her arrival at Hogwarts, been the bane of Rhea Wright's existance. She could never remember when, which, and where the stair was that she was supposed to skip, until her foot went right through the phantom plank. The memory of the amount of bruises they'd left on her shins made her want to run her hands over them just to make sure they had faded. However, to keep from looking like some old loon, she controlled the urge, barely.

She didn't pay much attention to his tone; she was so used to helping, or more commonly just doing things for others that she didn't note the way it was said, just the volume it was spoken with. Nor did she pay attention to his pockets, especially not enough to discern what was hiding in them. Flicking her wand and muttering an incantation, books began to fly back to their original locations two at the time, repeating the process as needed until they were all off of the floor. Rhea used magic as much as she could at school, being muggleborn, not a soul in her house could do it during the various breaks from school.

Looking down at her wand, the creme-colored wand was smaller, more dainty than most others' wands, a mere eight-and-a-quarter inches. It was hardly an intimidating sight, more amusing than anything else. It then occured to her that he might not have been implying she should do it, but maybe fishing for assistance. Which made her worried, "Oh, I hope I didn't offend you by doing that, because I wasn't trying to imply you couldn't or anything, I just, err..." she said, trying to take the foot out of her mouth before she actually did offend him.

Though, when he changed the subject about the disappearance, Rhea was easily led astray, rubbing the back of her neck uncomfortably when he made mention of 'face planting.' Mainly because she'd done a few of those throughout her School-life, which always seemed to become the toast of the days gossip, to be re-lived everytime she stumbled and the like. "Er, yeah. I... I've done that." she spoke softly, laughing nervously about it as he spoke, saying that he, too, had become clumsy. Though her face instantly clouded over in confusion as he made mention of a curse. She had never heard of a curse or a hex that made one into a klutz or a schmoe. "Curse?" she asked tentatively, quite curiously.

[james]

[sorry it took awhile, I was filmmaking all weekend]

Though he said nothing of the matter, Starke could not have been happier with Rhea for cleaning his mess up. Though he did not feel it was his fault, there was an unavoidable attachment he had to the situation that made him rather responsible for seeing it all set right again. Maybe running backwards through them again would reverse the effects? A silly notion, but a lot of unexpected things were happening around him as of late.

With all evidence cleared, Starke felt slightly more relaxed. In these moments he would envy her dainty wand… it was a hell of a lot more useful than his as of late. He just smirked at her attempt to rectify any injury to his ego. While he was indeed feeling very inept and derided, it was none of her fault. He did not notice when he turned the table of unease back upon her. He had not really expected her to be as klutzy as she claimed, and was just meaning a joke by his comment.

His face turned to a grimace when she said she actually did. He felt terrible, but not near terrible enough to really confide in a total stranger about his condition. What if she was the gossipy type? She might have been of a similar situation, but his was onset by something a little more serious. Or at least, he presumed. “Oh, um… well, I mean to say that I feel like some evil fate has fallen on me.” He lied, “No matter what I do, everything seems to go wrong.” That much was true at least.