Mairead's eyes flickered up from the page in her hand to the flustered girl who'd helped her from under the large piece of metal.  She wasn't really sure what had motivated her to agree - she really hadn't done that much drawing before.  There were few in their group that had had access to education; as of yet, Mairead hadn't been one of them.  Over the years, activities involving pens, paper or other writing implements had been few and far between.  But, in this strange and foreign world, it seemed a familiar activity that she had some experience with - even if it was infrequent. 

Mairead blinked as Fauna seemed to wave her off to one of the other girls and chased after the boy that was storming off.  There was an obvious, palpable tension.  As the older girl chased down the boy, Mairead continued to watch, largely out of curiosity fueled by the heavy awkwardness of the situation.  It was the second voice that grabbed her attention away from the two. 

Slowly, she turned away from the two and looked up at the girl, Meg as the other girl had called her.  "I - uh - sure.  Unless it's a bad time,"  Mairead answered.  After a moment's hesitation, Mairead turned and followed the older girl back towards the buckets

"I think - I've never really done a lot of painting."  Mairead glanced at the buckets of paint, a grin flickering across her face as she eyed the buckets of paint.  "I don't really know what to do."  She was, admittedly, relieved to hear that they'd be using brushes - though, for all she knew something would be strange about the paintbrushes.  "So, I don't have to use magic?" she asked, just to be sure.

Fauna bit her lip and shook her head, feeling pretty awful at the moment. This was what happened when she took on too much at once- she got stressed and sent her nervous system into overdrive, and apparently she lashed out at people. It wasn’t fair to anyone. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking when she had signed up for so many activities. Fauna had just wanted to be involved, to do something positive, but now she felt overwhelmed by it all.

"Yes, I had gotten what you asked and you spoke down to me like I was slacking off for fun."

“I know…” she admitted miserably, expecting him storm off soon and probably avoid her for the rest of the year. Fauna really couldn’t blame him, but she wasn’t used to upsetting people like that, and the art club needed his help too.

Then he surprised her by nodding slowly and saying he’d let it go. Fauna blinked at him. There was still a lot she didn’t know about Atticus and she hadn’t expected him to forgive her so easily.

Some of the tension left her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said simply, turning back to the rest of the group and deciding that she would find a way to make it up to Atticus later.

Megan was already being very helpful, showing the young girl what to do to get started, and for the second time that day Fauna felt grateful that Megan was in their group.

"So, I don't have to use magic?"

Fauna caught Mairead’s question and smiled at her. “Nope! Well, that’s why we have the paintbrushes and things, because… well, we don’t use a lot of magic in our own artwork, even though we could. We wanted to give everyone a.. preference. I mean, an option.”

Fauna looked at the wall with the now straight gridlines, and back at the image she held in her hand, trying to remember what Waker had told her earlier. She’d even practiced the charm, but she was worried it wouldn’t work, especially with all the setbacks they’d had so far. Fauna didn’t think about explaining to the others about it and instead concentrated on what she had to do.

She tapped her wand to the image and slowly tugged at the lines drawn there, pulling them out of the parchment and into the air. The lines clustered together looked like a spider web, and as Fauna brought them over to the wall and tapped her wand onto the grid, she saw the lines sprawl out and reach the corners of the mural, where they shifted slightly and then settled into place.

The small image drawn on the parchment had expanded onto the wall. Fauna glanced at it, then studied another copy of the image, checking to see that it lined up correctly. Everything looked right to her. She shook her head in fascination and disbelief. A few minutes earlier she couldn’t even make the gridlines straight, and just now she’d managed to recreate their drawing on a large scale.

Fauna felt so relieved. She looked at the group and chuckled. “It… it worked! Something worked…” She laughed again, feeling giddy, and went over to the buckets of paint to remove the lids and grab a few paintbrushes.

“Well, we can paint right away now,” she told them happily, looking at the wall again and half-expecting all the lines to disappear. But they didn’t.

“We can start in the middle and work our way out, if that’s okay. It doesn’t have to be perfect,” she added. “We can always go back and… fix and readjust if we need to.”

With that, she dipped a broad paintbrush in dark gray paint and touched it to the wall, looking forward to getting a good start on this. 


((OOC: I wanted to get to the good stuff, which is the painting, hehe. There's nothing set in stone that needs to happen during this thread, so feel free to create as much success for your character (or chaos) as you want!))

Meg looked over to the young girl that she was supposed to be helping, and gave a smile to her. "Oh, it's a perfect time," she responded to her with a nod. True, Fauna and Atticus had an argument, but that did not mean that the mural could not be started. They had to start the mural sometime. With the hours allocated for it, they had to manage to get something done. After all, they were the ones to suggest the mural in the first place.

Meg kneeled down on the ground to get two paint brushes as the young girl made a comment. She looked up at her. "It's fine. It doesn't matter what kind of talent that you have with painting. I'll show you how to, it's an easy routine to get into," she offered the girl. She did not want to intimidate the girl, especially before they even started painting.

Just as Meg was about to answer the question about using magic, Fauna had walked back over to them. She allowed the older girl to respond. She took out two paintbrushes from the can, deciding to go with the paintbrushes that were flat, and a little bit bigger. They were only beginning, so the specialty brushes were not needed yet. She dipped both paintbrushes in the dark gray paint, wiping off a little so it did not start rolling off the paintbrush, and onto anything. They did not need to start creating a mess just yet.

As Meg looked back up from what she was doing, she noticed that Fauna had successfully got the image on the wall. She had assumed that they were going to try to recreate the image with no help on the wall. But, lines were always better. "Good job Fauna," she praised her. If she even attempted that, she probably would have messed it up somehow.

Meg looked back at the young girl, and handed her a paintbrush. "Here you go. It's a simple stroke at first to use, since we wouldn't start with the exact details just yet," she tried to explain to the young girl. Walking up to the wall, she chose a spot that was more open with the least amount of lines. To show the girl, she figured that it would help her to start in an area with the greatest degree of free painting. Gesturing for the girl to come over, she touched the paintbrush to the wall. "First, just start off with wide, broad strokes," she said, "creating a line on the wall." As she spoke, she created a line on the wall. "Then, continue that motion, up, down, left, and right to this line. To make the strokes blend, you would not lift the brush off the wall as you paint, like this," she said, as a small box of dark gray paint was now on the wall.

Atticus was not exactly forgiving by nature. What usually happened if he was truly angry he could hold a grudge and would often fall silent leaving the person he was not pleased with in the deafening quiet of his disapproval. This had been his pattern of behavior for much of his life.

This time however he knew it was stress and not her usual attitude towards him. In fact she was different from many of the girls in the school, she ran after him. How often would someone you hardly know go after you to keep you there to help with a mural.

"You're welcome," he replied simply letting the bad mood roll off his shoulders. The dark cloud passed him and he was back in the spirit he was before, looking forward to the painting. To being involved as he liked, instead of as others did.

Grabbing up his brush he spied Megan and the little girl, or younger girl rather, near the wall. Finding a place on the wall near by he gave them both a small nod, and an awkward smile. It was the best he could muster for them. Hardly knowing Megan he didn't know how better to do it. "Sorry about that, painting then..."

Walking towards the section of the destroyed wall, Atticus found this would be the best place to start at. To work on the part of deterioration and destruction. Some may have thought it was a metaphor, perhaps art imitating life, but really it was just Atticus working on a part that would need fine detail work and concentration.

That's how he worked, connecting with the work and blocking out all of the nonsense surrounding him. Dipping the brush in the paint he held it started to moved about the wall following the outlines and making marks where he would put some damage later with a darker color. His attention now and then strayed from his work to the others working with him, once in a while peeking over at Fauna who he still wondered about.

Perhaps his attention span was not as strong as he once willed it to be. There had been times where he had broken from a train of thought before. This was just one of those rare moments.

Mairead nodded and took hold of one of the paintbrushes.  She was, admittedly, relieved to discover magic wasn't a required component of this whole painting exercise.  No doubt, Mairead was excited and eager about the prospects of learning all this magic stuff.  It was remarkable but, at the same time, daunting.  For all she knew about it, it felt like she knew nothing.  She didn't relish the idea of her first attempt being in front of these strangers.  "Alright.  Good," Mairead said, nodding once more. 

Mairead's attention was drawn, immediately, to the first girl's wand as she lifted it.  She watched with rapt attention as the girl tapped the wand to the page and lifted it once more, drawing long black strands from the page.  The long whispy strands waved as they followed the wand through the air.  Initially, she had no clue what they were but they looked strangely soft and almost as if they'd be sticky.  Mairead was quite tempted to reach a hand out and run her fingers through the strands, much as one would run their fingers through free strands of hair.  Had she not been grasping the paintbrush in her hand, temptation probably would have won out.

Her eyes widened as the strands settled on the wall, arranging themselves in a larger version of the drawing that was on the page.  "Wow," Mairead said, fully amazed and impressed.  Slowly, even a little hesitantly, Mairead shifted up to the wall and lifted a hand, brushing her fingers over the surface of the wall, her fingers stopping just shy of one of the lines.  There was no indication that the lines were potentially harmful, other then their recent trek through the air but, regardless, she was reluctant to commit to touching them.  "That's amazing," she murmured. 

Mesmerized by the lines, their creator's amazement had, largely, not registered with Mairead.  It was the clanking of the paint bucket lids that had drawn Mairead's attention away from the wall and to the older kids.   She moved over towards one of the buckets of paint, and dipped her brush into it as she listened to Megan's quick lesson.  It seemed straightforward enough: get the paint on the wall, with the help of the brush. 

She drew the paint-laden bristles across the wall, noticing the boy's arrival out of the corner of her eye.  She was watching the line of paint that followed the brush when, to her surprise, she heard the boy's apology. 

"I - um - what?" Mairead asked, glancing over her shoulder, unsure who it was he was talking to.  Surely, he wasn't apologizing to her, was he?  He might have been talking to Megan.  Just to be sure, though, she shook her head, her nose wrinkling in a sneer.  "I don't care; I hate schedules."  The silky, damp trail that followed the paintbrush began to streak as the paint ran out.  Mairead leaned over to reload the brush. 

She'd been denied the opportunity to get her fingers in the black stringy mess that was the drawing.  The fascination in the silkiness of the paint paled in comparison to the strings but it still captured her curiosity.  Setting the brush to the side, Mairead dipped her fingers into the paint.  The cool liquid covered her fingers in a layer of slimy, silky gray.  A small dribble dripped from her fingers.  She pressed her hand against the face of the wall and drew it along one of the lines.  It was less efficient then the brush; her fingers grew dry rather quickly, but it was gooey and sublime. 

Fauna grinned at Megan’s compliment and the young girl’s awe, though she assumed Mairead was amazed more by the magic itself than by the web of inky lines covering the wall. As she started working she listened to Megan quietly instructing Mairead and making suggestions. It was a good idea to start out with a simple area of the drawing and focus on the general shapes instead of the details. Fauna hadn’t thought to tell Mairead those things. She was so used to diving in and creating that it was a bit difficult to think back to the creative process; how she began a piece of artwork.

As Fauna focused on painting she became more and more relaxed. Instead of worrying about all the things she had done wrong that day, she could think about how the paint hugged the wall like a sponge, the grooves and uneven surface of the brick making a rough pattern. The large brush snagged against the wall occasionally, but it didn’t bother Fauna much, because she just fixed the patches of paint as she worked.

There was a rhythm in painting too. Dipping the brush into the bucket, waiting for the excess to drip off, and then bringing the brush back to fill in the shapes of the mural felt strangely comforting. Fauna took a moment to stand back and look at their progress, and she saw the middle of the mural was already filled with paint. They were just beginning, but it was exciting, and she felt proud of all of them. She glanced at Atticus, noticing that he’d picked the portion of the wall that was supposed to show the most destruction and debris. Fauna smiled slightly and caught his eye. He knew details and he understood architecture, so it couldn’t have been a better choice.

Fauna went back to her portion of the mural and soon reached the top of the castle wall- at least, the castle wall in the image. Above the castle was a stormy sky, dark and ominous, with a tiny ray of light in the distance. It was her favorite part of the mural’s first layer. She knew that eventually, they’d build up the layers of paint and make the sky lighter, and mend the castle wall. Now though, they were creating the first scene, so she could paint the sky as dark and stormy as she wanted.

She picked up one of the ladders standing aside and dragged it over, close to the wall. Then she picked up a few buckets of paint, filled with dark blues and grays, and set them close to the ladder. It was a short ladder, nothing to worry about, but as she stepped up onto it she looked around at the group and chuckled.

“Clumsy Hufflepuff on ladder. Watch out below,” she joked, making an announcement of it because she knew artists could get totally lost in what they were creating. It happened to her all the time.

When she started on the sky she became absorbed in what she was doing, and failed to notice that the crowd from before was making a return. It was only when the doors of the corridor burst open, letting in the distant noise of the Great Hall, that she jolted in surprise and looked behind her.

Her eyes widened and she gripped the paintbrush in her hand. Oh Merlin. People were there! And they were staring!

Fauna tried to smile at them but it looked more like she’d just swallowed a bogie flavored Bertie Bott bean. With the return of the crowd, her nerves returned as well, and she knew that the smooth and sure paint strokes she’d made would soon turn into a shaky, crooked mess.

Taking a few deep breaths, she looked around at the group to see how they were handling it. It was then she noticed Mairead. Finger-painting. She looked like she was having a wonderful time doing it too.

A slow smile crept up her face as she watched the girl attack the wall with enthusiasm, as much paint coating the floor as it did the mural.

Inexplicably, Fauna felt better. Mairead’s carefree and happy approach was infectious, and Fauna took some courage from that. It didn’t really matter if people were watching, she repeated in her head, dragging the paintbrush across the surface of the wall. Her hand shook only a little, barely noticeable.

The first day of remembering week, and Atticus had told he and Fauna Blake had been preparing a mural in the great hall. He had reminded her at least three times every day for the last week, making sure she would show her face in there at least once while he was painting.

Ava made her way from the Slytherin common room up to the entrance hall, and into the great hall. There they were, the group of them painting. Atticus, Fauna, two other girls from the school and a younger looking girl who must have been a visitor.

"Your muse has arrived." Ava announced with a grin to Atticus, arms wide open in full display. She made her way over to the group, climbed over the barrier [she had old clothes on that she didn't mind getting dirty]. "How's it going?" She asked him as she came over to his place at the wall. "Pfft. You haven't gotten very far, have you?" She teased, expecting the normal response about how art should never be rushed blah blah blah.

Atticus had certainly meant both of the other girls. It was unbecoming behaving as he did and he knew it. So it was only fair to apologize and get down to work. Though he wouldn't bring it up again. There was no reason to drag out the unpleasantness.

His attention had been split between the wall, and seeing that Fauna had looked over at him too. The two had shared an awkward glance he was back to looking at the wall curious to why that had just occurred. Of course he didn't get to concentrate for long on what he planned because there was always another distraction.

Enter Ava Grosvenor one of his closest mates and common allies. They had been close since childhood so of course he had repeatedly informed her of the events he took part in. That and when he had volunteered her to dress up as the Dark Lord it was the least she could do to come and see his part in the remembering.

He knew she would love being the center of attention. It was something that Atticus knew very well about her. So instead of waiting around to hear her kick herself for not volunteering he did it for her. It was smooth, far slicker than he had expected from himself. Despite a few protests he knew she would be basking in the attention soon enough and would shut her trap about the whole thing.

Having just made some lines for sprouting seedlings along the destroyed part of the wall he was liking the look of it when he heard the voice. A thin smiled crossed his lips as he turned around to look at Ava in a pair of tattered and worn clothing.

"My muse? You seem to think quite highly of yourself Grosvenor" he nudged her seeing that some paint had already made it onto his sleeves. It was a good reason to wear older clothing already covered in his art droppings. "There is nothing wrong with the progress we have made. You know if certain people showed up to help sooner we would be farther" he stuck out his tongue at her. Atticus was different with people he has known since like birth. There was ease there, calm behavior. Not always on edge but instead smooth sailing. "So instead of being a judgmental snipe how about you pick up a brush and get to work" he gave her a wicked grin and nodded towards the mural.

Meg had been concentrating on painting, and had not noticed that Atticus had came back to help them. It was when he addressed her, along with the young girl. She looked over to Atticus, and smiled to him. "It's fine. We're glad to have your help," she responded to him. Even though she was not involved in what happened, she wanted him to know that he was integral to their work, and that they couldn't finish the mural without him. She wanted to make sure that he felt important to the mural. Yes, that was the right way to describe it. Well, it was a better way, anyway.

Meg noted that she had directed herself, and the young girl to start on a section of the mural that had the least amount of destruction done to it. Yes, she had done that on purpose. It would seem less intimidating to the young girl to start in an easier spot. Naturally, it would be kind of odd to start at the top, since it would be kind of dangerous to instruct the younger girl while on top of a ladder. Therefore, it seemed to be the only logical choice to her anyway.

Actually, Meg had almost forgotten that she was supposed to be helping the younger child. Oh yes, she was probably a terrible mentor. She certainly hoped that no one considered her a bad mentor. But, yes, she momentarily forgot that she was helping the younger girl. Suddenly remembering the girl, she stopped painting, and looked down at the girl. She smiled, and let out a small giggle as she saw the girl finger painting on the wall. It was not necessarily the way that she would've told her how to do it. But, it worked. She smiled to the girl. "Good Job," she responded to the girl, encouraging her to continue painting. Oh sure, it really should have been done with a paintbrush, but she was not about to argue about that anyway. After all, the girl had the right to do it whatever way she wanted to.

Meg turned her attention back to the space that she was painting at that moment. It felt odd working with other people painting, but it was a good odd. As in, she was a bit nervous about it, but she was happy that she was doing it. It felt like a good feeling to her. She heard Fauna, as she went up on the ladder. She smiled up to the older girl as she tried to climb the later, and paint. "Be careful Fauna," she said to the girl. She knew that Fauna would be careful, but she figured that she should say it as well.

Mairead was blissfully captivated with the shiny, gooshy bubbles of paint that oozed between her fingers as she  brushed her hands against the wall.  In no way was Mairead oblivious to the juvenile nature of her fingerpainting.  She'd seen plenty of movies that depicted children much younger than herself sitting in the middle of a kitchen floor playing with paint.  But, she didn't let that inhibit her in anyway.  The paint and the painting were tangible; she could feel it as it grew on the wall in front of her. 

The smear of grey started streak beneath her hand and Mairead took her hand away, intending to recoat her hand and continue on the line she was working on.  But, rather than reloading with the grey, she lightly dipped her fingers into the white paint.  She smooshed her fingers into the edge of the darker grey and dragged her finger along the edge of it. 

The effect of the two colors was surprisingly satisfying.  Motivated by the feeling of success, Mairead dunked one hand in the grey and the other in the white before putting both hands on the wall.  Mairead glanced at Megan standing next to her and offered a slight grin as she realized she hadn't introduced herself to any of them.  "M'name's Mairead," she offered, both hands working their way across the wall.  "Yer students?" she asked.  It seemed logical they were but, thus far, few things had followed the rules of logic here. 

Mairead turned away from the wall to rewet her hands when she heard a new voice joining the group.  She looked over her shoulder at the girl, Grosvenor the boy had called her, watching warily as she approached.  Grosvenor approached with what came across as considerable confidence, even seeming critical of the work they'd done.  Mairead eyed her for a few moments before turning her attention back to the wall.

Fauna heard Megan tell her to be careful on the ladder, so she looked down and returned the smile. “Thanks! I’ll try not to fall on any of you,” she teased.

When the younger girl paused in her paiting to look at all of them, Fauna didn't notice until she spoke up. "M'name's Mairead," she offered, both hands working their way across the wall.  "Yer students?"

Fauna froze, feeling rude for not introducing herself or any of the others earlier. She had been distracted though, and tried not to feel too badly about it, since the girl didn't seem to mind.

“I’m Fauna, I’m a sixth year,” she told Mairead. The girl had a lovely name. She figured the others would introduce themselves accordingly. Then, to her surprise, Ava arrived. Fauna was focused on the mural and she didn’t see her at first, but when she heard her voice she turned her head around. Was that Ava dressed in… old clothes? Fauna couldn’t help but stare. She’d never seen her in anything the least bit unfashionable- except for her Voldemort costume, of course.

As she painted, Fauna listened to the banter between Ava and Atticus with amusement and more surprise. Atticus almost seemed light-hearted. He often acted so serious in class and during their group work that she had no idea he could joke around so easily.

"…So instead of being a judgmental snipe how about you pick up a brush and get to work" he gave her a wicked grin and nodded towards the mural.

Fauna laughed. “Ava, you know you want to…” She chimed in, pausing in her work to look at her. “You’re even already dressed for it. Oh, and inside the barrier too… there’s no escape now.”

It was ironic, but Fauna never would have been friendly like this a week ago. Something good had come out of detentions in the kitchens, however, and she and Ava had bonded over watery soup and watery-eyed house-elves.

Meg continued to paint in strokes on the wall. Naturally, painting this mural would take a lot longer than just simply painting a picture that she drew. She let her mind drift for a bit as she thought about the ceremony later in the night. Yes, they were having a ceremony later, during the times of the Battle of Hogwarts. Yes, it was a very tough time back when it happened. Surely, that feeling would be exemplified in the ceremony later at night. But, she figured that she would have to at least act as if she cared about everything. After all, she was certainly not apart of the magical community since birth. Thus, it left her in a disadvantage to everyone else.

During her time spacing out, Meg's paintbrush was slowly lowering itself down the wall. It went down far enough, that she had actually began painting her own knee. After a few seconds, she shook her head, getting herself out of her momentary lack of attention. Quickly picking up the paint brush, she stopped painting herself. She simply laughed at her stupidity, and started to fix the mess that she left on the wall. The young fourth year was never one to start complaining for dirtying herself. She was fully content with getting dirt, or at this time paint, on her clothes. Thus, she simply did not care that her jeans had paint on them. As a matter of fact, a portion of her clothes did have paint on them.

Meg looked back up at Fauna, and smiled to the older girl. Yes, she figured that she would be careful. It was not that she was afraid of getting hurt. It was just that if Fauna fell, then surely the mural painting would take even longer. In addition, a visit to the hospital wing may be in order by that point. Quickly, she pushed those bad thoughts out of her mind. It was essential to give Fauna her full support, that she would not fall.

Meg looked to Mairead as she introduced herself. She suddenly realized how rude she probably was the entire time thus far. Here she was, supposed to be helping the young girl, and she never introduced herself. Moreover, none managed to introduce themselves to the young girl. It was certainly a good thing that they were not being graded on their separate personalities at that present time. "Nice to meet you Mairead. I'm Megan. I'm a fourth year," she responded to the girl with a nod. She decided not to say what house she was in. She did not want to instill in the young girl that houses actually mattered. She personally did not care about houses, and would not want anyone else to either.

((ooc: you have my permission to powerplay Meg to further the plot if you need to, just in case I am unable to respond for the next week))