Open to Hogwarts Students of any age/house.  Anyone who would be intrigued by Indi's posters and promises of yoga, meditation, and possible massage lessons.

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So.  Guy Fawkes night had started as really fun.  Some of the seventh years had gotten together to… light up some things of their own… but then things had all sort of spiraled when word from the larger wizarding world trickled in.  There were friends involved on the outside and family members, it was really just all depressing.   No one was doing a very good job at processing their feelings.   

Indica was not the type to dwell, in contrast.  It was time to do something.  Like barely a week ago it’d been Halloween and they’d celebrated and then bonfires and whatever.  Indica was not going to be lost to a see of mourning – especially because she wasn’t even sure the two people that died had any connction to Hogwarts at all, either through current students or as alumni.   London was a hub, after all, they could have been from anywhere, and she figured the school would have made announcements more specifically if they were related. 

That didn’t, of course, make it okay.  After all, they were lives that were now gone, that was unfortunate.  And sad.  Indica had lit some candles for them during her meditation.  Which is what brought her to the empty classroom! 

She’d dragged a bunch of candles and a wireless – as many pillows as she could steal and conjure.  Plus, she’d put up some signs to guide others.  A night of meditation, reflection, and possibly a massage lesson (if enough interest was expressed, since it was something Indica was learning how to do)!    Plus, she’d actually made an effort to get there a little early, set up and whatnot. 

She waved her wand, lighting the candles and the wireless was useful for anything, including the sound of rain and creatures chirping.  Indi figured she’d get a head start though and laid her mat on the floor. Scooting her bum close to the wall, she slid her legs upward before closing her eyes and she began to just count her breaths.  Used specifically for calming anxiety, Indi was already a laid back girl and her head lolled to the side... though most assuredly not on purpose.

It had been six days since the attack in London, and six days since Zia had felt happiness. It was an unusual lack of desire, for Zia, who always had some sort of smile on her face. Whether she was flirting or joking or eating or thinking, there was cause for her dimples to make an appearance. In her life she had had plenty of reasons to smile. A big family did that to you -- there was always someone catching your frown, turning it upside down.

Now there was a burning black hole where one of the most reliably cheerful Pisellis had once been. Ronaldo had been a connoisseur of spirits both kindred and alcoholic; his wines and ales were in high demand throughout Europe. There was still a refilling bottle of wine that he had gotten her for her birthday that still had one turn left. Zia wasn’t ready to drink it - she hadn’t been prepared for it to be the last gift she’d ever receive from her older brother.

It was difficult to motivate herself to get out of bed; it had been hard to come back to school, but the emotions back home were running extremely low and there were (still) too many Pisellis to make that a healthy environment to process her feelings in. Everyone knew that her brother had been one of the two casualties -- she could see it in their eyes and sense it in their auras. Remarkably, it was better than being at home, where one look at her mother dissolved Zia into a puddle.

Zia had only attended class sporadically since  hearing about Ron’s death. She had consistently attended Charms, the subject she was best at, but the other subjects varied. Her professors didn’t seem to question it too much, and instead appeared to be giving her room to breathe. Nobody quite knew how to react to a depressed Zia Piselli, whose hair was inappropriately pink. It was quickly fading back to brown; the color had always been connected with her heart in that way. Zia had a wide range of emotions, her Italian blood really bringing out the drama in certain situations. Her hair color had its varying shades of bright pink depending on her mood, but lately there was hardly any color left at all. There were only a few hints of the bubblegum tint left.

Tonight she had been (somewhat forced) to attend Indie’s yoga session. This was not something that Zia had ever tried before -- however yoga was a popular suggestion to calm Zia’s normally overly energetic spirit. She wasn’t feeling particularly bubbly at the moment, but a few friends thought it would help ease her troubled mind.

“Hey Indie,” Zia greeted her friend with the most cheer she could muster, but instead of jovial and peppy she sounded strained. When would normal Zia return? She gave a weak smile, the best one she’d been able to produce all week. She tugged on the end of her sweater, gripping the fabric tightly. Zia bit her lip and looked around nervously. Her friend had folded herself into some sort of pretzel shape. Zia tilted her head curiously.

When one was in a relaxation pose, it wasn’t weird to fall asleep.  Indi had sort of started to doze off.  Of course, her muscles relaxed and she had sort of folded over on herself, which stopped her from truly falling asleep, but she was comfortable enough to continue on with closed eyes.  After all, the music was soothing and the pose was specifically designed for relaxation. 

When she heard the door creak, Indi opened one of her eyes (the other was pressed shut from the pressure of folding up on herself and Indi rather ungracefully flipped over to right herself.  Zia looked… rough.  Usually, she was vibrant and peppy, but she looked sort of dull – like a galleon had been dragged through the mud.  Not that Indi blamed her, she’d never experienced anyone important to her die.  She still had three of her grandparents and the other had passed away before she was even brought to England. 

So, she couldn’t really imagine how she was feeling, but she could guess that it probably didn’t help for other people to avoid her.  So, Indi tried her best to be less asleep and drowsy by shifting to an actual comfortable (for her, probably only her) position and yawned. 

“‘Ey Zia,” she greeted and pulled with her shoulder in order to stretch her back more fully.  “Pull up a mat,” she motioned to the empty space near her, “and ready yourself to embrace …nothing.”  It was probably not an appealing idea to some, but Indi enjoyed it: having nothing going in her brain but a pleasant buzz (of the non-herbal remedied sort of way).  “Do you prefer Tibetian bowls or meditation gongs?” she added curiously, jerking her head toward the wireless.  She was sure she’d be able to find whichever Zia preferred.