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 Blackbird Singing in The Dead of Night (Briella)

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Avalon Anderson-McCarrel

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PostSubject: Blackbird Singing in The Dead of Night (Briella)   Thu Aug 24, 2017 4:34 am

The sky was darkening into the evening and Avalon was finishing up his flying for the day. He was still new to the Hogwarts Quidditch team, and as such he felt that he had to work twice as hard to match the flying abilities of everyone else on the team. He was a good flyer, one of the best at Ilvermorny, but there was still an element of needing to prove oneself that made itself apparent as one joined a new team or group. He hoped that his skills would speak for themselves, but there was no harm in practising.

Before returning to the ground, the Gryffindor darted into the sky to practise a few more tricks. Flips and tricks would not win matches, but he felt that he needed to know every possible skill just in case it would be one-day imperative that he perform them. He held on tight to his broom, maneuvering his way into a spiral shape as he flew through the sky. There was a smile on his face the entire time as the wind flew this his hair.

Once he finished his practising, Avalon returned to the ground. He smiled to the soft of the ground as he rest his feet upon it. He loved the air, but he loved the rest of the world as well. His eyes scanned the sky, debating whether or not he would have time for a run before calling it a night. The world was darkening quickly, but there was yet enough light for the boy to decide that a run was exactly what he would need.

He readied his feet on the ground, taking in a few breaths before he would take off. But before he could, the boy heard a small screech in the distance. It was a black figure, darting towards the ground faster than any being should. It hit the grass, screaming as it did. Avalon rushed over to the site, hoping that any of the skills that he had would be of some sort of help.

It was a bird; a small, baby blackbird that had fallen from his flight. And he was hurt.

The boy cupped the bird in his hands, whispering the entire time that everything would be alright, he was alright, someone who cared had him now. Upon first examination, the bid appeared okay, but he made it clear that he was unable to use his wing.

"I can help you," He said. He had to be able to. Surely there was something he could do. Magic, or muggle, or something in between.

"Don't worry," he said, both to himself and to the bird at the same time. "It will be alright."
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Briella-Ashley Myers

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PostSubject: Re: Blackbird Singing in The Dead of Night (Briella)   Thu Sep 07, 2017 7:38 pm

Briella was not in a particularly good mood. Camera around her neck, one hand resting on the 'capture' button, she let out a few curses under her breath as she left the castle. Idiots. So many idiots all around, spoiling her day... She wasn't exactly in the habit of allowing what others did or said to affect her mood; she knew who she was and to heck with what others thought or said. But when they tried to talk smack about her mother, that was something unforgivable.

Six different hexes later, Briella had landed herself detention for the next month and almost got her title as Quidditch team leader revoked. It was only when someone else came forward and testified that it had been not excused or warranted, but that Briella had not gone completely psycho that she'd been spared that.

She would have gladly lost the position, though.

Still, she could have handled it better, could have done things more subtle, could have not landed said student in the hospital wing... Her brothers would be proud, she knew. Her father would tisk and tut and lecture her, but she wouldn't get into trouble; not once she explained. It was Cora and Rose she would have to worry about. They seemed to want to instill lady-like manners in her, and that wasn't pleasant.

Pushing all thoughts aside, Briella focused on the screen on her camera, viewing the world not through her eyes but through lenses. There weren't many people about that time of night, and the few that were, she snapped quick pictures of when they weren't looking. It wasn't going to be anything spectacular -- her mind wasn't in the right place for that -- but it helped to calm her, the familiar pattern of finding what others couldn't see and capturing it forever.

As she rounded the bend, she saw someone bent over, picking something up. What was he doing? She couldn't get a good angle, and she turned slightly, pressing the button as soon as he came into frame. His face, half turned away, hidden partially by shadows; his hand, firmly yet gently holding something small; his posture, worried yet calm... And then she saw what he was holding and dropped the camera, allowing it to hang from around her neck.

"Is it alright?" she asked, stepping closer, her hand going into her pocket and withdrawing her wand. She made no excuse as to why she was there, offered no explanation or apology if she startled him. It was a bird, sure, and it wasn't the most beautiful or endangered thing in the world -- but she was always told that if she could help, to help. "Do you know the right spells?" she added, pointing at the wing with the tip of her wand. "Cos I do, but if you're more experienced with it, go ahead."

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Avalon Anderson-McCarrel

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PostSubject: Re: Blackbird Singing in The Dead of Night (Briella)   Mon Sep 11, 2017 10:40 am

Avalon spent a few moments talking softly to the bird, letting them know that they weren't alone and that he would try his best to help. The bird cooed softly as if it wanted to understand the soft-spoken hums that it was hearing. The boy hoped that the animal understood at least the safety that he was trying to share. No-one should be along whilst they were suffering. This had been something he'd decided a long time ago.

"It's his wing," Avalon told the girl who'd mysteriously appeared all of a sudden. She was carrying a camera; probably indicating that she'd been outside taking photos of nature. He wondered if she'd taken a photo of him. Avalon hated having his picture taken. It reminded him of x-rays, for some reason. And he hated everything about x-rays.

As he turned around, the Ravenclaw identified the photographer as Briella-Ashley; the Slytherin Quidditch captains. He was sure that they had crossed paths before, seeing as they were on rival teams, but it was unclear as to whether or not they'd ever exchanged words off of the field. Her eyes seemed worried and sincere, though he wondered how sincere it truly was. Would she have paid any attention to the creature if no-one else had been around. There were some people who only paid attention to the suffering when there were people around to give kudos for caring.

No-one should be able to decide when it's beneficial for them to care about another life being redeemed or betrayed.

"I think," he told her in response to her asking if he knew the right spells. Avalon planned to one-day study healing, which indicated that he must have known a thing or two about the subject already.

"Though I was thinking of maybe seeing if there were a more natural way to heal him," he confided. "I was thinking perhaps making some sort of a splint or a brace and then keeping him out of harm's way just until he's better." He wondered how the girl would react to this idea. Some people didn't think much about the Muggle methods of healing, seeing as magic was so much simpler. But seeing as he'd spent as much time being cared for by Muggles as he had, Avalon knew that there was a bit more warmth to being healed in a more personal way."

"He may better appreciate being cared for that way," he told her. It sounded stupid, he knew. But he thought it worth a shot. If he were going to be a healer, he had to know how to back up his own instincts.
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PostSubject: Re: Blackbird Singing in The Dead of Night (Briella)   Mon Sep 11, 2017 11:16 am

She raised an eyebrow at his words. "Why?" she asked, almost immediately; why go through that trouble if the bird could be healed with a single tap and a muttered word? Magic was useful for situations like this, and Briella was already tempted to just perform the spell and walk off. If Avalon had issues with that, then too bad for him. But she stopped herself. It wasn't her bird, wasn't her problem. It was his, and that was something she'd long since learnt; you dealt with your problems and nobody else's. If you needed help, then you asked for it and it would be given. But unless you were asked explicitly, then problems weren't yours to deal with.

Unless you were dating or married, in which case your partners' problems were also your own. But Briella wasn't married to the male before her, and so she merely shrugged at his second statement. "If you say so," she said, although her tone was doubtful. "I say magic would be faster, but he's your bird. Besides, natural is subjective."

She had to hide a smirk at the implications of her sentence, not having realised the innuendo until she'd spoken. But that wasn't the time or place to be commenting about his 'broken bird', no matter how amusing it was. Instead, she slipped her wand back into her pocket.

"I know how to make a splint if you don't," she said, lifting a shoulder in another casual shrug. Her father had taught them all basic first aid on their camping trips, more so for fun than anything practical. Besides, if they were ever in a situation where they couldn't use magic, at least they'd be prepared.

Then, remembering something -- mostly that she was in school, and not in the forest or by a lake in a remote part of the UK or US -- she added, "There's the magic way and there's the muggle way. It's both a splint but if you think the bird will... appreciate... the hands on way more, by all means."

Looking at the male -- whose name she couldn't recall; she'd seen him around before, but who he was she didn't know -- she waited for his response. If he didn't need her, she'd leave. If he did, then she'd help before leaving. There wasn't much point sticking around, after all.

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Avalon Anderson-McCarrel

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PostSubject: Re: Blackbird Singing in The Dead of Night (Briella)   Mon Sep 11, 2017 8:34 pm

As Avalon had suspected, the first thing the girl did was question his methods. She wanted to know why the boy preferred a less-quick fix method to a magical one and he wanted to explain it to her in vast detail. But it really wasn't that complex a reason, or at least he didn't think it to be. Looking at the bird, he wondered what had happened to its family. He knew that bird families let go as soon as the baby learned how to fly, but he'd always assumed that the flock would stay back if one of their own went down. He'd assumed, but apparently, the world hadn't agreed with the logic.

"I just want him to know he has a friend," He responded. "Magic is a quick fix; you're in and out in seconds and the problem is as if it was never there. In some ways, this could be seen as a cop-out method. Especially in a simple situation such as this, you could fix his wing without ever having to connect with the issue." He wondered if anyone else had ever thought about magic like this; as a way to avoid a problem instead of confronting it.

"I just want to make sure he knows that there is someone willing to stand by his side, y'know?" He knew that his explanation would probably pass by her without an understanding, but he felt better having at least explained his efforts.

"I know how" He told her, trying to not sound offended at the accusation that he didn't have basic first aid skills.

"But I would really appreciate it if you could hold him down, gently of course, while I do it. Just make sure to be careful. Be his friend, not his doctor." Avalon had never said this before, but he realised how much it would have aided him to have a caretaker who was his friend moreso than his physician.

Hoping she'd be gentle with the bird, Avalon reached into his bag for the things he knew he'd need to make a proper splint. Seeing as he wanted to be a healer, the Ravenclaw always came prepared for an emergency.

"Oh," he stopped for a second. "He's not my bird, by the way. He's just someone who needed some extra tlc."
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PostSubject: Re: Blackbird Singing in The Dead of Night (Briella)   Fri Oct 13, 2017 7:59 am

[[OOC: oH CRAP I TOTALLY FORGOT I HAD THIS I'M SO SO SORRY!]]

He had somewhat of a point in his statement; sometimes, nothing could beat the old fashion way. Briella knew that, as an amateur entomologist, when she had to study insects. Not many of her kind wanted to take the time to stalk or find bugs. Of course, she'd taken the advice of her brothers and stunned or froze the bugs temporarily for study, instead of killing them as was required -- why take a life unnecessarily, they'd asked; she mostly suspected this was due to their respective others' request, as they had never seemed to have this problem before. In this case, magic helped.

Again, she lifted a shoulder, intrigued by the male. He had vastly different ideas of viewpoints. While Briella didn't fully agree with them, they were interesting nevertheless, and that meant she wanted to explore them more. As a wannabe journalist, opposing ideas were her playground, after all.

"Magic could be more helpful," she said, trying her best to keep her tone neutral instead of aggressive. "It could be seen as torturous making the bird wait weeks for his wing to heal -- causing it longer lasting pain -- rather than heal him in a few seconds or minutes." She gestured around the surrounding. "If it's left here, with a broken wing, it could be hunted easily and can't find food. Unless of course, you intend on taking it back to your dorm, and providing it a makeshift nest and food every..." She paused, frowning a little. "How often do you feed birds? I only know insects."

His further comment made her arch an eyebrow, but she didn't comment. Did birds understand sentiments? She'd always seen them as incapable, just like insects (they didn't possess the brain to understand complex thought). But instead of saying anything -- she wasn't in the mood for an argument -- she merely nodded.

Her eyebrow stayed raised at his statement. That was the difference between journalism and anthropology -- and, apparently, being a doctor, too. She'd never once thought about or even considered that field of work, but she knew from her own research that, while in journalism befriending the interviewee was wrong, in anthropology building friendships were an important part of it; how else would one get involved with a community or tribe unless you were already friends?

Taking the bird from him, as gently as she did when she handled bugs she caught, she placed a finger on his head like she'd seen her brother do once, stroking it softly. If the male hadn't been there, she probably would've been cooing softly to it -- but she had her pride, and so she kept mum. Instead, she said, "I know how."

His last statement brought forth a laugh, both at the innuendo and the innocence in it. "So you're not it's friend?" she countered. "You're looking after it; that makes it yours. Just like he'd be your patient or your friend."

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