It was Saturday, and with term waning away for winter break, Naomi decided to buckle down and work on one of her Divination assignments. They had an exercise regarding "otherwordly" observations again, and this time around  the Slytherin decided to focus on out of body experiences at the suggestion of Bai Li Yang and encouragement of the professor. Bai Li also informed her it was a good way to develop her occlumency skills as it developed supernatural senses rather than physical ones--even if it's not entirely understood as to why or if out of body experiences have been proven practical to other wizarding world. 

Nonetheless, Naomi got a few books out on the subject, checked out one of the small stone basin pensieves from the Divination classroom,  covered her body in some runic designs for schemotomancy, put on her affinity aid, and laid down that night trying to have one of these experiences and to record it in the small pensieve immediately after. And now that she was sitting in a small secluded corner of the library with open books resting on the table in front of her with some glossy photo paper, a journal, parchment, and quills; the small pensieve sat and shimmered on the table in front of her with confusing and curious images of a Hogwarts night rolling across the surface of the liquid-like fumes, seeming to suggest her endeavors were successful.

The pensieve showed Naomi in her bed, the closed curtains of her dorm-mates, the stone castle halls at night--and then the castle seemed to shift like its moving staircases, stone walls would tumble and flip to the sides like entering Diagon Alley or frames of moving panting would became a window into a portrait one could crawl through to get to another portrait--then the castle reached normality again. Then there were moments where the scenery bled with some of Naomi's memories; the walls of Hogwarts was littered with hieroglyphs she recognized from an underground passage in Egypt[1], or the trees and bridges found in the Cockpit country of Jamaica twisted around stone columns and corridors, and then overexcited letters from Abby seemed to be embedded in the cold tile floor every so often. Then she would turn into another passageway and the school seemed normal again. Then the process would repeat itself until she finally opened her dreary eyes to the creeping light of the morning.

Now that Naomi was awake and staring down into her small pensieve, she wasn't sure what experiences were of her own mind's machinations or what experiences were caused by some excess supernatural manifestation of magic infesting the castle. And despite the information of supernatural occurrences and explanations that littered the two or three books surrounding her and one infamous Forbidden Section tome adorned by a foresty cover called Curiouser and Curiouser by  Miss Liddell,  Naomi had absolutely no idea where to begin or what to write about.
 
And so she let her green gaze graze the text on some of the books before she picked up one of the glossy pieces of paper and dipped it in the pensieve, where the image dancing on the liquid burned an animation of itself onto the photo paper, and then she would att it to her small pile of photos--which accomplished a lot of nothing.

Naomi readjusted her headband and added another moving picture to her pile, she felt the sound of soft footsteps reach her ears, which made her cast a suspicious glance towards the sound. But her stare calmed when she saw it was just Ezra. So Naomi calmly returned her attention to the small pensieve as her voice quietly lilted through the air, "You bored, wandering, or working?"

1.	Won't Stop--Shakin' Up What I Can

Ezra leaned back in his chair and stared at the Defense textbook laid out in front of him.  His essay was practically finished.  All he really needed to do now was double check for factual missteps and grammar errors.  But he was fairly confident that it wouldn't take long to reread the paper and copy it onto clean parchment.  His writing wasn't the best in class but it was straight-forward, efficient, and fairly orderly and correct.  Ezra grimaced and tossed his quill onto the book.  He had homework left to do, of course, but none that he really wanted to start right now.  His head tipped back and he stared at the ceiling with his mouth hanging open.  The chair soon followed until it leaned back, supported by its back legs and his feet on the floor.  The ceilings in the library, because they were so high, were actually quite dark.   And boring.  He looked up and put his chair back on all fours with a hollow  thump.  He should probably go and get that Divination book on dream interpretation.

He stood up and began to walk lazily through the stacks, his head rolling around from side to side to examine the people quietly studying or moving about the library around him.  There was a section in the book he'd gotten from New Orleans in his second year that dealt with the magical and predictive qualities of dreams in voodoo.  The approach was a bit different though.  He tried to be careful in class and not let things cross over too much.  People knew he was interested but Ezra found that it was best if few people knew just how much he was or was not capable of doing with that branch of magic. 

Ezra stopped along the stacks and lost his train of thought.  His cousin, Naomi, was sitting by herself in a back corner of the library.  She was alone staring at a bowl and dipping paper in it.  Mildly curious, Ezra ambled closer and saw that she was working with a pensieve given the silver markings etched onto the sides of the bowl.

He grinned at the fourth year and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets.  "A little bit of all of them, actually" he responded.  "What are you working on?"

"Define 'working,'" Naomi pulled the glossy piece of paper out of the bowl as a picture began to dance across its surface; she set it aside and cast her carefree green gaze towards Ezra with a helpless shrug,  "Mostly I'm playing wit' dis assignment--had a funky experience, but dunno what to write about it."

She poked her finger into the gaseous mixture of memories and let it twist around her finger "So I'm just making pictures," despite getting absolutely nothing done, her voice hummed with a carefree air as she looked back towards Ezra, "Nothing as exciting as getting lost around 'di library."

Ezra made a noncommittal noise and looked down at the picture Naomi had made.  "Sounds like fun," he drawled, clearly meaning the opposite. He had never been a fan of that kind of thing in particular unless and old Cajun crone was slapping his hand for misbehaving.   Threats of old-world curses had a way of making a boy pay attention.  Then Ezra scoffed, "I haven't gotten lost in this library since I tried smoking gillyweed before studying History of Magic.  I ended up hallucinating that the library was the caves of the 50th troll rebellion or something like that." 

He shrugged.  "I could use something to do though, other than homework.  It's Saturday, for Merlin's sake.   Homework is for Sundays."  A group of Ravenclaw girls walked past carrying books in their arms.  He nodded at them with a broad grin on his face.  He could always try and distract some pretty Ravenclaws from their studies.  That was always a fun challenge.

 Naomi shook her head from side-to-side at Ezra's attention span--or priorities. The only thing Naomi found interesting was another Racketeer meeting or outing with Raine, Gracie, Alex, and that numb-brain Attwood. The witch delicately laid another picture down in her pile of photos and leaned back in her chair, "Lost in 'di library, lost on herbs, lost on girls," she wove her fingers together and then pulled them far above her head as she turned a lazy half-lidded stare back to the boy, "Same t'ing."

Her shoulders rolled back and she let her arms drop to the side and returned her focus to the pensieve again while her dark brows arched high upon her forehead, "Same waste of a Saturday."

A smirk then pecked at her pursed lips as she turned her hazel-green stare back towards her cousin, "Though making pretty pictures or going on crazy mind trips sounds far more entertaining 'dan sucking faces wit' some lovesick fish," Naomi's voice gave a harsh clip at the subject as she remembered some rumor about Ezra wrapping himself around one of the Monarchy witches--Weaveman? Weirdman? Whatever.

It was fun to watch Maeve Whitman make them squirm when she left--now that was a senior prank--but that novelty wore off quickly. So Naomi was disinterested enough being in such close proximity to Monarchy girls like her teammates, Kitty and Demitria, and, by association of Abigail Reid, Neely--so coupled with Quidditch drama, her own clubs, hobbies, other academic interests, and fourth year dramatic escapades--Naomi didn't feel like gracing her her cousin's rumor-sparking self-indulgent tendencies with anything more descriptive than 'lovesick fish.' 

Ezra collapsed artfully into one of the chairs and tapped one long, tapered index finger on the table top.  He didn't hang out much with his cousin, even after she began attending Hogwarts with him.  The primary extent of their relationships was the mutual attendence of family functions where they hung out in the same group by virtue of being near enough the same age.  She was a serious little spit who didn't hold a very high opinion of how he chose to spend his time.  In her eyes, he was nothing but a lost boy who had yet to find anything reasonably worthy to do with himself.

She was young still.  He sat up and leaned forward across the table with his hand flat and his eyes intent.  They had both inherited the same predatory stare from their common ancestors the Afambi's but Ezra had gotten the fair skin of his mother and grandmother's families.  His voice dropped to match his mood and he adopted a Cajun accent to hightlight the differences in their families.  "Cher, ye got no idea whatchyou talkin bout."  It was a deep and steady growl he'd picked up and perfected since his stay in New Orleans, not the playful half-accent he'd affected during the Halloween Ball.

His British accent returned when he spoke again.  "Liviana isn't some plaything I picked up for a bit of weekend fun so I'd thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head when you talk to me about her.  And I only say this because you're family, but you'd better keep in mind that not all social advances are made with serious, backroom deals and wizarding pacts.  Sometimes a bit of a smile goes a long way."  He sat back in his chair, sprawled gracefully once again but this time with a tense air of irritation.

Of course, at the mention of whatever it was he chose to call his new girl, Ezra immediately tried to slide to her defense in the conversation. Naomi contemplatively pursed her lips and gave a distracted hum as Ezra rambled on about nothing in particular his cousin cared about. Lectures weren't something that went far if you weren't either of her parents or if your name didn't end in Morgan or Yang (and sometimes Reid)--she didn't even recall her brother asking such a childish request when he started dating Alexandra Carstairs. Probably because the Ravenclaw witch would hex her sibling into next week if she found out about it.

Naomi's green gaze rolled up towards the ceiling at the boy's preaching, "Oh di' one who throws her brother's name around all th' time?" A distasteful eyebrow arched, framing a pitiable and disbelieving stare that fell back upon her cousin. As someone who made it a point (and quite literally, a fight) to stand alone from her brothers, one shouldn't have expected any other response from the girl.

"By your t'inking I was only referring to her about being a lovesick fish only proves my point," Naomi kissed her tong against the back of her teeth as she returned her gaze to her pensieve, which rippled with the view of someone who had just climbed out of a painting and into a towering version of the History of Magic classroom, "You sound every other guy in 'di school wrapped around someone's finger."

She leaned onto the table and gently cupped her cheek into her hand as she looked at Ezra like he was one of those dull scenes in a muggle action movie, "A smile and a snog's more like it," she drawled, finally giving the boy some semblance of a response to this silly conversation, "Sometimes a bit of dignity and respect can take you far too--if not farther."

A satisfied smile caved its way onto Naomi's lips before they twitched and fell apart into a bitter frown with the whites of her teeth poking through with displeasure, "The fact you'd treat any girl like a play t'ing doesn't make me feel inclined to care about one person at--" she nodded her head towards her cousin, "Your request, Ezra."

Ezra stared hard at his cousin from across the table.  He barely felt the the smooth, cool wood under his spread palm.  They were never close to one another and for good reason too.  Their family was such a viper pit that family events were more about besting one another or out maneuvering them.  They weren't friends and probably would never be friends if Naomi turned everything into such a competition.  He lifted his hand and rubbed his lower lip with his thumbnail.

"Some girls don't make themselves into anything more than a play thing, so, by my way of thinking, they're getting exactly what they want.  On top of that, smiling and snogging a pretty girl doesn't mean that I've somehow lost my mind."  His eyes narrowed at his cousin a bit, trying to make his point.  There was too much wrong with what she said.  He wasn't whoring himself out for a little bit of political favor.  He liked Livi on her own right and if their association happened to prove valuable later on, then so much for the better.  Having a girlfriend didn't make him weak or deluded.  There was a part of him, a small part, that wondered if she wasn't right.  He genuinely liked Livi and that had the potential to leave him blind to manipulations on her part.  Being used was one of his greatest fears.

But then... his cousin might know that.  He pursed his lips, suddenly quite irritated with his cousin.  His eyes sparked a bit as he stared.  "Listen, Shug, what I do or don't do and with whom I choose to do it is absolutely none of your business.  So tread carefully."

Ezra's reaction was met with a slow tilt of Naomi's shoulders and her dark brows unevenly arched as she continued to stare at the boy in disbelief. Somewhere between his remarkably testy attitude and the word 'Shug', Naomi was baffled by how childish her cousin was acting. Even with how Blake Knight's views tended to clash with her own, as of late, they never let a conversation about them devolve into something more immature than witty retorts and harsh wordplays.

Naomi blinked, "I guess your no better 'den whachyou call 'dem then," her voice twirled into a silky tune, "Cus' wit' th' way you're letting your ego run your mouth, I'll call it like I see it, Ezra," she rolled her eyes and shook her head as she pulled a lid out of her bag and secured and locked it on top of the bowl--content with the fact she had enough moving pictures to work with than she really needed--and then she slid the bowl back into her bag as she picked up a quill and continued talking.

"If you can't deal wit' someone criticizing you when you make somet'ing personal--," she pointed the feather at the boy before she returned her gaze to one of the blank piece of parchment in front of her, "then just clam up and keep it to yourself," she shook her head never lifting her eyes move between pictures and paper as her quill began to brush against the parchment, "Or grow some thicker skin."

All of Ezra's muscles melted like butter, the tension running completely out of them as he grinned indulgently.  "Perhaps you're right, wise one."  His eyebrow twitched up once, showing how unimpressed he was by her observations.  She was just a little fourth year, a halfway distant cousin who knew just enough about him to get under his skin.  She didn't really know him and what he got up to with or without Livi. 

He gestured with one elegant hand, "I will surely take your well-seasoned advice to heart.  In fact, I'll start right now."  He stood up, unfolding his long form and turned to go.  "I think I'll find something worthwhile to do with my time."  He glanced down at the sheets of paper and walked away with one final comment.  "Have fun doodling, sweetheart"

Naomi kept her eyes on her paper and her hand continued to scribble away notes until she realized Ezra was still content on talking--like she still cared. The witch lifted her free hand up by her head, as if she were daintily removing something from the air; then she began tapping her fingers against her thumb to the rhythm of Ezra's charming voice, as if she were in control of a mindless sock puppet that perfectly translated everything she heard the older boy say.
 
Blah. Blah. Blah...
 
After a few moments of that, he was finally leaving. At the sound of another pointless pet name Naomi let a dull dreamy tone escape from her lips as she finally voiced her thoughts with a satisfied smile.
 
"Blah."
 
She let her fingers fan out from her palm and stopped mimicking Ezra as, she assumed, the boy began to wander off to smoke Gillyweed somewhere, to act like a a cookie-cutter male chauvinist, or to find someone who would shower him with their adoration and attention. Typical male. Typical idiot. 
 
As she listened to the boy's receding footsteps, Naomi witch rolled her sea-green eyes towards the ceiling and let a deep chuckle tickle her throat, "Bumbaclot."