Soap Bubble Surreality [Open]

[james]

There was a crispness to the air often found in the earlier months of the fall season or late summer depending on the time of the climates change, the air smelled heavily of a that certain sharpness that often brought to mind ice, and cold winter nights. It left a feeling of certainty that the summer months were drifting well away, and fading into the clutches of Fall. The grass had a brittle quality to it as the edges turned a sort of darker green-brown. Leaves were turning, the colors of autumn edging the vibrant green like the plumage of a fancy bird.

The grass was not quite soft as it was in spring, nor as harsh summers often mildly drier climates but it was still stiff enough to prick the skin at the nape of his neck as he lay sprawled there. He wore the usual school uniform, supplemented with a light cloak to keep the chill at bay. The sky was so blue that it was nearly white: A pale sort of robins egg that seemed to affirm the suspicions of the changing weather, and James could almost feel the first snow fall slowly creeping up the edges of the world's consciousness. He lay not far from the shore of the black lake: Close enough to hear the water slowly sloshing against it's banks as it lapped the shoreline, and the occasional sploosh of the giant squid smacked a tentacle against the surface. His nose and cheeks had gained a ruddy red color, and his hair was even more fly-away than usual due to the rather stiff breeze that was whispering over the grounds.

His gaze followed the dark speck of an owl as it wheeled out from the Owlery tower, swooping around the far off spire before disappearing back into the room via another entry.

James lifted his right arm from where it lay limply at his side; in his fingertips he held the small golden snitch he'd 'nicked.' Though he preferred to refer to it was 'extended borrowing' really. The small thing fluttered it's thin silvery wings in slow pulses as it rested in his hand, almost as though testing his grip: Searching for a way to get away. The boy slowly turned it in his fingers, rolling it this way and that: The distant watery sunlight glinted off the bright golden shell in fleeting glances creating momentary patterns across his face, and chest like sunlight through water. His other hand idly fiddled with a few stalks of grass as it rested by his side.

It was quiet, almost too quiet in James' opinion: He was used to the near constant action and noise of his companions and himself: It was a rare peaceful moment, and he wasn't really sure what to do with himself, or that moment... Yet at the same time he didn't really feel the need to get up and go search out of of his best friends.

His fingers released the tiny flutter orb, and the snitch hovered for a second before darting upward. James immediately lurched upward slightly, one hand shoving him up, while the other reached out to snatch the golden ball out of the air and a few bits of grass and other debris fell from the back of his cloak, and hair. The arm he'd shoved himself up with shifted further back to prop the messy haired boy up, as he adjusted his position. One leg came up, putting his foot flat to the ground so he could drape his arm across his knee.

Somewhere nearby a bird twittered. Peaceful, quiet, it felt surreal and dream-like: A soap bubble quality that could be popped just as easily.

James inhaled, closing his eyes and dropping back flat on his back in the grass. His lips quirked in a light smile: Despite the chill, it was a nice day.