Patience is not a virtue. [open]

[Marcelle Odette Fairbairn]

Marcelle stormed around the room searching under every chair, couch, table, anything she could basically turn over. She'd lost something, she just knew it. Maybe it was her quill she thought hastily. "yes!" She screamed finally realizing what it was she was looking for. It was her favorite quill, it was an eagle feather quill her mother had given it to her when she got her first Hogwarts letter. It meant the world to her.
Marcelle cast her eyes into the fire and sunk into the couch, it seemed to a fruitless endeavor searching so desperately for a quill, anyone else would have given up by now...she'd been searching for almost an hour.
"Who knew our common room was so large..." She asked to no in particular. With one final burst of energy she began to throw pillows and cushions off all of the couches.
"You've got to be here somewhere!" She screeched to the furniture as if yelling in a threatening manner would make it appear.

[Micah White]

Micah was feeling bored, the lake not doing its usual magic it had done for him in the past. He wanted to paint something, but the lake wasn't going to be his focus, he knew that. He wanted something different, something fresh to sketch out.

He headed to the common room, deciding he would paint part of the room and give it to his sister, knowing she would probably miss Hogwarts once she left once the term ended. He walked inside and was immediately alarmed.

"Uhm...is everything okay?" He asked as he walked in further and saw a girl throwing things around and screaming. Micah was a bit scared, if he were honest with himself, but he knew she was probably frustrated about something. He had seen a lot of girls throwing things in a way to get their anger out, and he assumed--and hoped--that's all it was.

[Marcelle Odette Fairbairn]

Marcie turned to the newcomer her dark eyes wide and full of panic. He was asking her is she was alright. She knew for a fact she didn't look alright. Her hair was a mess and her skirt was crooked and her shirt unbuttoned by about 4, untucked, rolled up past her elbows and incredibly wrinkled, it probably looked as if she had been doing something she most definitely had not been. but now was not the time to dispel rumors.

"DO I LOOK LIKE EVERYTHING IS OK?!"
She screeched her voice high enough that she was starting to rival dog whistles. This was not good. Realizing she looked like a crazy person she dropped back onto the couch and sighed heavily, today was not her day.

"I lost my quill, before you assume I'm insane going nuts over a quill.....It was my favorite. My mom gave it to me when I started school...and now I've lost it. She's going to kill me."
Her voice seemed so full of emotion that it would burst any moment. She looked around the destroyed common room and felt a pang of guilt, other people like dot use the common room too and now she had turned it into a war zone.

"I guess I better clean this mess up...."
She cast a dejected look at the boy and attempted a smile. Today was not her day.

[Genevieve Danforth]

(Hope you don't mind if I join!)

Genevieve, meanwhile, had been sitting in the very far corner of the room the whole time, her thin frame mostly hidden behind the large, squashy armchair where she was sitting. She had her nose buried in a book, but she wasn't reading it. Instead, she was doodling little curlicues and hearts labeled with the initials "LJ" with a pretty eagle feather quill that she'd found underneath the very chair in which she was sitting.

As usual, she was quite unaware of what was going on around her, and was lost in a daydream. Even though Marcelle had been raving about the very quill that Genevieve was holding, she paid no more attention to it than she would have paid to a fly buzzing around her ears.

But at that moment, she let out a dreamy sigh, and the book in her hands tumbled to the ground with a loud crash. It was enough to shake her out of her daydream, and she looked around wildly.

"What?" she gasped, although no one had been speaking to her.