[ The bell chimes with a merry little noise, and Luna glances at the winking metal in his hand with a surprised and delighted little Oh! — she might have grown up with magic like anyone else, but sleight-of-hand is still charming, still sparks that little flutter of warmth in her chest, a fizz like champagne.
Before she can think of what to say, however, then the clamour of names and handshakes begins. It's a mess of voices overlapping and introductions for the newcomers and some glad reunions for the old-timers: Didn't we meet at that conference in Sardinia? and No, it was Salamanca and Did you ever rehabilitate that Ironbelly, two summers ago? Luna finds herself drifting along on those eddies of conversation, committing names to memory, quietly following their tangents. She props her chin in her hand and watches them all, her silvery-grey eyes large and bright. When she cocks her head while listening, a bit like a curious dog, the bell tinkles behind her ear like a reminder.
Once there's enough of a break in the discussion (an impassioned debate about today's progress, ideas and suggestions for where to root out the dragon tomorrow) and Charlie steals a moment to lean towards her, Luna turns her own attention fully back to him. ]
Do you really? I took your advice. [ She raises one leg, foot stuck out for proud display, and then simply props her boot on his knee for better inspection. It turns out she's just as loose and easy with physical contact as he is; unselfconscious and maybe a tad too whimsical about others' personal space. ]
They still need breaking in. Dad said leaving them out on a full moon would help with that, but I have doubts.
[ Once upon a time, she'd blindly accepted everything Xenophilius Lovegood had said as fact. She still took most of it on faith, but some faint dubiousness had started creeping in lately. ]
no subject
Before she can think of what to say, however, then the clamour of names and handshakes begins. It's a mess of voices overlapping and introductions for the newcomers and some glad reunions for the old-timers: Didn't we meet at that conference in Sardinia? and No, it was Salamanca and Did you ever rehabilitate that Ironbelly, two summers ago? Luna finds herself drifting along on those eddies of conversation, committing names to memory, quietly following their tangents. She props her chin in her hand and watches them all, her silvery-grey eyes large and bright. When she cocks her head while listening, a bit like a curious dog, the bell tinkles behind her ear like a reminder.
Once there's enough of a break in the discussion (an impassioned debate about today's progress, ideas and suggestions for where to root out the dragon tomorrow) and Charlie steals a moment to lean towards her, Luna turns her own attention fully back to him. ]
Do you really? I took your advice. [ She raises one leg, foot stuck out for proud display, and then simply props her boot on his knee for better inspection. It turns out she's just as loose and easy with physical contact as he is; unselfconscious and maybe a tad too whimsical about others' personal space. ]
They still need breaking in. Dad said leaving them out on a full moon would help with that, but I have doubts.
[ Once upon a time, she'd blindly accepted everything Xenophilius Lovegood had said as fact. She still took most of it on faith, but some faint dubiousness had started creeping in lately. ]