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Week of April 13-19, 1987Easter Holiday: On CampusGryffindor vs. Hufflepuff:March 15
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Member Since: 03/10/09
Mar 7 12 8:04 AM
Melody ClaytonFourth Year GryffindorGryffindor ChaserTweedledee
Nigel Wright Gryffindor - 1984 Gypsy and Deviant Forever at a PriceMinor Earth, Major Sky
“I don't know about palm reading,”
“Oh,” said Nigel. “I had a girl once read my palm. She told me all kinds of crazy things that made me feel worse than I was feeling before. I didn’t come out of my room for like, a week.” Granted, that girl hadn’t been a very nice person and seemed to want to cause him mental anguish. Which did beg the question of why Nigel had let her do the palm reading in the first place… he had no answer for that. Sometimes people did crazy things. The crazy happened to Nigel quite often, actually. He blamed his mother.
“But arithmancy readings are really good sometimes. I can use your significant numbers to figure out all kinds of little things. It's nice,”
“I have significant numbers?” he asked. As far as he knew, he didn’t have significant anything. Except perhaps a significant amount of stress… “What kinds of little things?” he asked, suspiciously. That palm reading was still in his head. He wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to know little things. Knowing made things real. If he just suspected, there was a chance that he was wrong. Not that that was likely, because he was always right. Well… Wright, anyway. He was pretty sure that counted.
“I just need you to tell me some things about you. Not anything private or anything,”
He shrugged. He told anyone who would listen about his familial problems—not much of his privacy was left. Not in terms of his family and history. That was his own fault, really. He was more guarded with his thoughts and feelings, but even then, if someone really wanted to know, he might tell. Unless it was a demand, or something, and then he wouldn’t tell just to be contrary. Because he was just like that. If someone told him to do something, he was more likely to refuse to do it. “Sure,” he said. “What do you want to know?”
“Your full name, and your birthday and things like that – if that's okay. Maybe a little bit about your family. If you want to just write it all down for me I can do it soon. Tomorrow at lunch, maybe?”
“Alright,” he said, agreeably. “Is there like a list of things that I should go off of?” he asked. If she wanted a list pre-made by lunchtime tomorrow, he needed to know what information to provide. “Wait—what kinds of things about my family? Like my immediate family? Because other than that, I probably don’t know.” He wasn’t all that in touch with his father’s family. Or his mother’s family, now that he thought of it. Did she have family? See, he didn’t know. And any questions about stepfathers would be pointless. Other than Chuck, he didn’t know. And he only knew a little bit about Chuck. Actually, upon reflection, he might be a little self-absorbed… Eh. Who cared? He was going to die, anyway.
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