You're on Fire

Denver ambled off the field. He had just had a practice quodpot match against Burkenshire, and they barely pulled out a win. It was only a practice match, so it did not really matter for anything, but it was still nice to get the morale of the Burkenshires down reasonably early. The Burkenshire team was always very good, and if they could beat them in practice matches, the Meriwether team actually would have a shot this season.

He was walking back to the school when he heard a voice calling out from behind him, near the hill to the football fields. There, he found one of the guys from the team, Chris, standing around, talking. He was standing next to a girl who Denver vaguely recognized, and while there were other people there, those two seemed to be in the center of the action. The girl was a Meriwether, from his grade, but he did not know her by name, just by face. Scanning through his mental schedule, he remembered seeing her in his English class and his Transfiguration class. They were two of the larger classes, since they were required, and it was not all that surprising that he would not know her name. Since he had nothing better to do, he decided to walk over and say hello.

Diana loved quodpot.

There wasn’t a lot of logic behind her admiration of the sport, but Diana loved quodpot. It was a strange game, an interesting game, a curious game: a game curious enough to warrant her attending every match the Meriwether team played…even scrimmages. Today, she’d ambled out to the fields for a practice match against Burkenshire, shouting raucously along with her friends as they finished, victorious. It was exhilarating, to be a fan of any sport, but quodpot in particular.

She walked back towards the dormitories slowly, as always, lingering to speak with some of the team members she hadn’t seen in a while. She knew most all of them, being her talkative self, and today she found herself in the middle of a group of excited conversationalists, namely a player by the name of Chris. They laughed, they talked, about nothing in particular, but mostly Diana’s attentions were elsewhere, her eyes drifting every few seconds to scan the grounds even as she engaged the minds of those around her. One particular face caught her eye today, one she couldn’t put a name to—a fellow Meriwether, perhaps in a few of her classes, and on the team—before long, Chris was calling him over and he had wandered into the folds of their group.

Denver. It was an interesting name, and she matched it with the face in her mind, knowing she wouldn’t forget it. “Hello.” She said as he reached them, the faintest hint of a southern accent ringing through her bell of a voice. Diana no longer made any pretense of focusing on the conversation of the group, which carried on without her. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Diana.” She loved saying her name, loved saying it almost as much as she believed she’d enjoy saying his, once she had the occasion. It just sounded like something that would roll off the tongue.

As soon as he reached the group, he was absorbed in, part of the crowd. Denver was used to this--it was not him being cocky or having inflated expectations, but a simple truth that he tended to be pushed to where the center of conversation was.

The first one to greet him was the girl who had been talking to Chris. She had traces of a southern accent in her voice, but overall her voice was cool and even. "Hello," she said, "I don't believe we've met. I'm Diana." She had pulled away a bit from the conversation around them, leaving the encounter almost one-on-one. Denver nodded saying, "I don't believe we have met before, but it's a pleasure to meet you now. I'm Denver, as I'm sure you heard." His mouth curled up into a bit of a smirk on the last part. Chris had been loud from the day Denver met him, and had not changed a bit since.

Meeting new people was always somewhat of an interesting event for Denver. His parents were both in the business of selling--his father was a politician and his mother a real estate agent, and had dragged him along for the ride. Thus, he had to learn to read people quickly, creating a mental file of their facial expressions, vocal inflections, and everything that could be of use to his parents. When he met new people even today, he fell into old patterns, and he found himself searching Diana's face for reactions, habits, and whatever else he could find. He stored everything away, to be looked at later.

However, the general consensus was that he liked her.

“Yeah, I picked up on that.” She said with a slight smile. Chris was easily as talkative as Di herself, but his voice was infinitely less soft, sweet—the gender thing, perhaps, accounted for most of it. “You play pretty well.” She observed, recalling Denver’s performance on the field that day as decent, if not better. “Were you on the team last year?” He didn’t seem like the person to go unnoticed, what with all the attention she paid to the Meriwether quodpot team, but perhaps Diana’s observational skills weren’t all she liked to pretend they were.

She looked him over, noticing that he seemed to be doing somewhat of the same thing to her. His observations were meticulous, however, in a way hers never were—she didn’t rely on first impressions so much. Denver, though…he examined her almost unconsciously, but under his gaze she found herself more intrigued than uncomfortable. It reminded her a bit of Seymour, her oldest, most distant, and consequently most interesting brother. The two of them, it seemed, shared an air of mysteriousness, of false openness. She wasn’t sure whether to be frightened or pleased, but settled herself into a calm, dull happiness at her new acquaintance.

“You play pretty well. Were you on the team last year?” Denver nodded. "I've been playing for the Meriwether Quodpot team for a while now, I suppose. I'm not the best player on the team, but I try." He smiled, his modesty a habit, something that was drilled into him since the day he could talk. This statement, however, seemed to invoke a different reaction than he would have expected, her face twisting into confusion.

"Do you come to watch the games often? You seem to know a lot of the people on the team, so I figured you come to watch fairly regularly." He paused, trying to remember whether he recognized her face in the stands, but he really could not come up with much. When he was playing Quodpot, the action of the game was where all his attention was focused, and the other details kind of blurred away. That was one of the few times that he could say this. Thus, he had no major flash of recognition.

He did notice, however, that she noticed that he was sizing her up. It was an odd feeling for Denver, having people realize that he was watching them, but there was nothing he could really do about it. It did not happen often that he was caught, but when he was, it was usually quite uncomfortable. After all, for him, it was an automatic reflex. A smile, a laugh, a raised eyebrow were all cataloged away, and usually, the other conversationalist was oblivious. However, from the look in Diana's eyes, he could see that she noticed, and was doing some looking for herself. Hers was more gentle and probing, somehow sporadic, and very different than what he was used to. He was used to the harshness, and the opposite caught him a bit off guard.

It was freaky how much of a conversation took place outside of words.

"I've been playing for the Meriwether Quodpot team for a while now, I suppose. I'm not the best player on the team, but I try." She nodded vaguely, if such a thing is possible, disguising her mild guilt with a vacant look that could almost, but not quite, have belonged on her face. Diana really hadn’t noticed him before, and she realized this fully now that she wracked her brain. Perhaps he hadn’t played well the past year? She didn’t ever bother memorizing the faces of those around her who didn’t draw her interest during the games…no matter how nice they were to look at. It was comforting, at least, to know that he had to recollection of her either. "Do you come to watch the games often? You seem to know a lot of the people on the team, so I figured you come to watch fairly regularly."

She smiled now, brought back from her mental digression by the words. “I hardly ever miss a game.” She found herself returning to her examination, a cautious, absentminded dissection of the boy in front of her. “I find them terribly interesting. It’s a bit of an addiction, actually, but I prefer the school matches to professional competition.” They were communicating in a way she wasn’t familiar with, through stored observations that were filed away to be sorted later that night. It was a cycle which could potentially be endless: he noticed her, she noticed him, he noticed her noticing him, she noticed him noticing her noticing him…and there, it had stopped—for the moment. He seemed relatively unfazed by the experience, and she wondered if it was ordinary for him to be caught sizing up his new acquaintances.For some unknown reason, Diana didn’t think so.

Then again, maybe she just liked to pretend she was special.

“I hardly ever miss a game. I find them terribly interesting. It’s a bit of an addiction, actually, but I prefer the school matches to professional competition.” Denver nodded. "What do you think so far?" he asked. "From what you've seen, do we stand a chance this year?"

There was a silence, where they sat staring at each other. Denver knew Diana was looking at him, trying to make sense of him, almost like he was. She knew this as well. Neither was exactly comfortable with the idea, though Denver suspected he hid it ever so slightly better. He'd had more practice, he assumed. They'd both mentally acknowledged this analyzing process, and now there was the awkward fact that neither of them knew where to go from there.

"Well," Denver said, his voice automatically smoothing out the awkwardness in his tone. "What's the consensus?" He wondered whether Diana would bother to answer the question or not, since he figured she would understand what he was talking about. She seemed like an intelligent girl, and the awkward silence was what led to the question. However, the question itself was one that she could easily ignore. He probably would not answer it right away. It would be giving away his hand too early.

However, she could easily answer, as well. Denver supposed that this would be his first chance to actually learn something. So far their conversation had been purely trivial, talking about Quidditch instead of anything substantial. There was only so much you could learn from talking about Quidditch.

"What do you think so far?" Denver asked her menial, absurd questions—quidditch questions. There was so much more to be discussed, so much more to consider. She could see in his eyes that he had greater concerns, and so did she. For a moment, even the most entertaining of sports seemed like absolutely trivial, meaningless gobbledygook. It irritated her, and when she was irritated she tended to fall into uncomfortable periods of silence or furious storms of activity. For the moment, the former seemed to dominate."From what you've seen, do we stand a chance this year?" She smiled, coyly this time, and dismissed the question with vaguery. “I liked what I saw today. There’s certainly potential.”

They needed to move on. Dancing in circles was not, nor had it ever been, a favorite pastime of Diana’s. They needed to be confrontational, and this was one of her strengths. Her mind sparkled behind her eyelids, formulating any sort of response to his new question. The simpler, it seemed, an inquiry was, the more difficult it was to answer. Why are we alive? Who am I? How did he get in here? She wasn’t sure whether or not to answer yet, or how specific to make her words, but whatever she did say needed to be a multitude of things, none of which she had quantified as of yet. As dynamic as her personality seemed to be, people confused her. “It seems,” she paused, looking to the group they’d previously been conversing with, “The consensus is that we ought to head back to school.” The pack was at least ten feet away from them now, ambling slowly away from the sports grounds. It was getting late in the afternoon, and the sun hit the world at a much different angle than it had when Diana had stepped out of her dorm that morning. “But personally, I find this environment a bit more interesting.” She didn’t give herself away, not totally, not yet. Too dangerous.

“I liked what I saw today. There’s certainly potential.” That simple sentence hid multitudes, none of which she shared with Denver. The smile dancing its way across her face told him that she was not telling him everything. Her response certainly was vague, and there was clearly so much she was not saying. Denver had the nagging suspicion that her response was not directed towards his Quidditch-related question at all. She seemed to be as bored with the dull, unrelated conversation as he was.

They had been walking during the entire conversation, and with Diana's next response, Denver realized just how far they had strayed from the group. “It seems the consensus is that we ought to head back to school, but personally, I find this environment a bit more interesting.” Denver looked, and sure enough, all the rest of the group was heading back to the school.

Looking around, he could see what Diana meant about the environment being more interesting where they were. It was rather beautiful during that time of day. The afternoon was fading, the sun slinking down slowly across the sky. It was not too bright, and not too sunny, but not quite dark yet.

"I quite agree with you," Denver said. Chris called over, but Denver waved him away. Chris got the hint, thank goodness. Hey may be loud, but he was intelligent, thank goodness. "You're not usually one to follow the consensus, are you?" Denver said, trying to get something from her. Her previous answer clearly was avoiding giving away anything, and he was curious. He had noticed about her that she did not really seem to fit into any nice little box, so far, and he wanted to learn something about her.

"I quite agree with you," She was glad. The world outside was gorgeous, but it wouldn’t always be—of course, she wanted to continue talking to Denver. It would have been a shame to be forced into the confines of school walls. “You're not usually one to follow the consensus, are you?" She was pleased to hear Denver dismiss Chris’s calls, though she didn’t give any obvious physical signals to that effect. He probably noticed anyway. They continued moving away from the pack, as was in her nature, and, she imagined, his as well. “No, I’m not. I’ve never really understood the concept of allowing people to have unlimited influence on your decisions. At least pretend to be original.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, focusing more on the air around her than her companion for a brief moment. “Plus, this is my favorite time of year.” It was a tidbit of information combined with a bit of personal philosophy, and as she glanced over to Denver beside her, she wondered what he’d give her in return.

He certainly didn’t reveal anything with his expression. It conveyed nothing but a mild interest in what she had to say, which Diana supposed was enough. There was a certain degree to which you had to be Diana to understand her, and she’d never judge someone for simply having different characteristics. That is, not intentionally.

The setting reminded her of early years at SAS, when she’d wandered around campus tout seule, searching for some hideout to call her own. She’d never successfully uncovered a pocket of campus that was untouched by the students she cohabited with, but in a way this fact had its own magic. It made her feel included even when she was feeling alone, and that was no small thing.

No, I’m not. I’ve never really understood the concept of allowing people to have unlimited influence on your decisions. At least pretend to be original." She sighed, turning towards Denver. Plus, this is my favorite time of year.”

The first part of what she said rung true in Denver. She seemed like one to go above the expectations of her, to choose her will over that of society. However, it was not that that drew Denver's attention. It was her last statement that seemed to be the most valuable thing that she said, as the way she said it implied an importance, a hidden meaning.

"This is my favorite time of year as well," Denver said quietly. "I always thought that the changing between seasons was lovely, and moving into fall is the best." This was a true fact, though the main reason he said it out loud was to watch for Diana's reaction.

Diana did seem like a summer into autumn person. She looked lively, intelligent, and warm, like spring, but like autumn, she was more subdued, more mysterious. She was intelligent, but (from what Denver had seen) not overly showy. She did what she wanted, like the colors of fall, but often, other people followed suit.

She was very different from Denver, but in many ways, the two were very similar.

This is my favorite time of year as well. I always thought that the changing between seasons was lovely, and moving into fall is the best.” Lovely! They had something in common, and something important. As the entire organizational system of SAS proved, seasons mattered. Of course, it probably could have been predicted that the two of them should have coinciding opinions—they were, after all, both in Meriwether house. Still, Diana smiled.

Denver was quieter now than before, and she wasn’t sure why. She turned her head again, for a second, and, upon viewing a small pile of particularly crunchy looking leaves a few feet ahead of them, she spontaneously jumped forward, landing perfectly with a satisfying sound and a bright smile. She was certain she looked silly and childish, but in the moment, didn’t really care. “The colors are so much more striking now than they were in summer,” she said, “Or will be in winter. It makes everything look and feel so different.”

She was hardly even paying attention to her words anymore, which probably wasn’t an advisable thing to do. Instead, she considered the fall: cool, mysterious, foreboding, bright but neutral. Quiet and short-lived, but simultaneously incredible. Denver was a fall person, as herself, but in a slightly different way. She leaned towards the summer, and from what she’d seen of him, he stood closer to the cold side of the spectrum. This version of him didn’t fit in so well with those she recalled him surrounded by, but he always appeared so perfectly matched to his place that she hadn’t even noticed him until now. It was confusing. “Plus,” she paused, looking down at her feet, shoes slightly sunken in the soft ground from the force of her jump and leaves scattered around them, “I love the sound of dead leaves.”

Denver watched Diana's eyes light up as she saw a pile of leaves. She smiled triumphantly as she jumped in the dead center of the leaves, with a practiced hop. She seemed to love the satisfying crunching sound. While it would have looked ridiculous for many people, Diana looked graceful, oddly at peace in the setting. It really did suit her. It even showed in her speech--as she started to look at ease, her words became more comfortable, and less guarded.

“The colors are so much more striking now than they were in summer,” she said, the smile still on her face and in her voice. “Or will be in winter. It makes everything look and feel so different.” Denver nodded, though he did not respond. That was one of the things he loved about fall. Everything was dying, but even death was beautiful. Fall was bright and vivid, but not loud, like summer. It was peaceful.

“Plus, I love the sound of dead leaves.”

A grin lit up Denver's face. It was a grin that would melt the hearts of many, but that he never used for that purpose. This was a genuine grin, one that he did not have to pretend was real. It was the grin he reserved for when he was actually happy. "Who doesn't love the sound of dead leaves? It's like the shrieking baby for the squeamish nature lovers." He paused, pondering the random, slightly disturbing simile. "Though I suppose it's more humane, as they're already dead."

She probably thought he was insane.

"Who doesn't love the sound of dead leaves? It's like the shrieking baby for the squeamish nature lovers." She laughed lightly at this, remembering suddenly a host of terrible jokes one of her friends had shared with her the previous year. They were almost too terrible to repeat, and yet she giggled mentally. "Though I suppose it's more humane, as they're already dead.” “I suppose you’re right,” said Diana, “Although I might have chosen a different analogy.” She wondered if the slightly disturbing insipidity of the comment, coming from Denver’s mouth, was more a function of inanity or a revealing of some dark underbelly to his personality.

After a few moments of considering the question, she decided that talking about leaves was infinitely more enjoyable.

“But I’m not sure about the whole humaneness thing.” She pointed out, examining the simile he’d provided in perhaps too close of detail. “We certainly don’t go around smashing up corpses.” She didn’t imagine the crunch of bones and rotting flesh made nearly as satisfying of a sound. In fact, the thought was actually quite sickening.

She looked to Denver’s face, noticing there a grin that seemed unlike the calm, controlled smile she had seen on his face before. It was more genuine, perhaps, and it in turn made her own happiness more real. She liked the idea that she was impressive, and even though she didn’t require the assurance of others to know that she was AWESOME, it helped. In practice, it was generally an abhorred trait, mistaken for conceit…or perhaps not mistaken at all.

In any case, he looked more comfortable than before, and she felt at ease as well.
That was the important thing.

“I suppose you’re right, although I might have chosen a different analogy.” Diana looked a bit more serious, but it almost seemed that it was not because of his analogy. It seemed like she was focusing more on the implications of the analogy, though she did seem to be trying to make sense of the analogy itself. “But I’m not sure about the whole humaneness thing. We certainly don’t go around smashing up corpses.” Denver was amused to see that he was not the only one that was so twisted as to try to figure it out. It was definitely a faulty, loose analogy, but it was the first one that popped into his head.

That in itself was odd, and a bit disturbing to Denver. He did not blurt things out without careful examination. However, Diana had caught him off guard, and now that she seemed to be relaxing, it was rubbing off on him. He rarely met someone who could be so relaxed while being so analytical--he rarely could himself.

"No, smashing up corpses is not usually the normal plan of action," Denver said, his thoughts returning to the matter at hand. "I mean, I'm sure some people do it--it's not all that different from cremation. Cremation is burning the bodies, but both result in the body being broken apart." Denver realized he probably sounded a bit morbid, so he attempted to change the topic.

"However, that's beside the point, I suppose," he said, the hint of a smile on his face. He looked up at the sky, and the sun was slowly starting to set. "This is one of my favorite times of day as well," he said, to start the conversation back up.

Diana felt more like Diana than she had in far too long. It was her nature to think, to be constantly curious in a manner different from that of her peers. She cared, to be sure, about the gossip of the school, but the scope of her inquiries was much broader. She analyzed but didn’t hesitate, wondered but didn’t linger. It was doubtless the source of her otherwise difficult-to-explain academic philosophy: she was always interested, but she so rarely paid attention that it was rendered pointless.

"No, smashing up corpses is not usually the normal plan of action. I mean, I'm sure some people do it--it's not all that different from cremation. Cremation is burning the bodies, but both result in the body being broken apart." She considered her point for a moment, focusing more on the statement itself than its nature. “I suppose so, but cremation is so much cleaner.” She understood the irony of her statement, that turning someone into what was essentially dirt could possibly be more streamlined or pure than crushing them. “It just seems infinitely more respectful to destroy something by making it featureless, rather than just…” She trailed off, searching for a word. “Gruesomely unrecognizeable."

Her own point, however, was quickly lost on her as she realized she’d completely forgotten what they were talking about.

“However, that’s beside the point, I suppose. This is one of my favorite times of day as well.” Her eyes followed his, skyward, to the west, where the remaining grey-blue of the day flashed into brilliant colors—purples, pinks, oranges and yellows the likes of which you wouldn’t find anywhere else—before fading to a deep blue. She smiled at nature’s display, contentedly but not giddily, not excitedly. “It’s certainly beautiful,” Diana said, not exactly satisfied with her choice of words, but settling for the relatively apt description nonetheless, “But I’ve always preferred the sun as it rises.” Perhaps that was just another part of her nature, her tendency towards beginnings. It had always seemed to be more of a novelty to her, to wake early enough or evade sleep long enough to see the sun come up (with or without conclusions). Less commonplace, if less visually stimulating, and that was her wish.

(as an ooc aside, i am sorry this took me a million years/a fortnight.)

Denver decided to let the conversation about corpses and cremation go. Neither of them was truly focused on it, as it was much more of a random tangent than a conversation. It was completely irrelevant, really, and it was getting a bit weird, even by his standards. It did not seem to bother Diana much, oddly, and he supposed it did not bother him either, per se. It was just something that he did not feel the need to pursue in any more depth.

“It’s certainly beautiful,” Diana said, looking somewhat dissatisfied, “But I’ve always preferred the sun as it rises.”

Denver looked at Diana for a second. He could definitely see that--she seemed much more of an initiator, and sunrise suited her much better. It was brighter yet unappreciated, often going unseen by the sleeping masses. He, however, was much more of a sunset person. He was seen and appreciated by all, but he was not as straightforward, as visible.

"Do you prefer the day or the night?" he asked, expecting he knew, but wanting to ask, out of curiosity's sake. One thing he had realized early on was that sometimes, asking the seemingly obvious questions led to the most telling, most surprising results.

Denver was not a sunrise; that was plain to see. Diana rather liked this, though: it made her preference that much more of a novelty. Plus, where was the fun in talking to someone who’s just like you? You can’t have everything in common with anyone—the only thing that will lead to is chaos.

“Do you prefer the day or the night?” She considered the question for a moment, pleased by her own difficulties in answering. She was a people person, and that inclined Di towards the day: sunlight, conversation, exploration. And yet, the night had much to offer as well: mystery, secrecy…one was less likely to encounter a multitude of people when the sky was dark, but oftentimes the people were infinitely more interesting. “I think,” she said slowly, allowing the words to drift off of her tongue at their own leisure, “That I prefer the day. It’s a tough call, though. I just… like being alive.”

Regardless of the joys of the night, it was the morning that truly brought things to light. She wondered if Denver would judge her, would think her an oddity and dismiss her, but suspected he knew better than to do any such things. She suspected that he was fishing for a surprise.

How very paradoxical.

Denver watched as Diana pondered his question, her face relaxed, yet revealing her concentration on the issue. She clearly was thinking it through thoroughly, and it seemed that she wanted to be truest to her. As she thought, they walked, but the silence was not awkward, especially with the weather being as gorgeous as it was. There was really no way for anything to be awkward in that lighting, with the sun slowly sinking down the sky, taking the color and the brightness with it.

Finally, she answered, her words slow, even, and deliberate. “I think that I prefer the day. It’s a tough call, though. I just… like being alive.”

Denver pondered the answer. Once again, he could see how it made sense. She certainly was a character, but Denver appreciated that in a person. The night and the day had such very different appeals, both intriguing in their own ways, but neither without its flaws. Denver had always been a mix of the two poles. He looked like a day person, but he always considered himself to be a night person. He looked open, welcoming, and was the ultimate golden boy, in the eyes of many, but he himself preferred the soft, mysterious, oddities of the night.

He realized he never replied, and he was rather enjoying the conversation enough to keep it going. However, he really did not know quite what direction to take this in. "Well, it seems we have that in common," he said. "I rather like being alive as well. I think I lean more towards the night, though."

“Well, it seems we have that in common. I rather like being alive as well. I think I lean more towards the night, though.” She nodded in response, but her eyes strayed from her companion in what she hoped he didn’t think was boredom. It was, rather, a retreat of sorts. She kept herself engaged in the conversation: invested, even, but at the same time drew back to consider the situation she had managed to place herself in. She was roving the campus with a boy she’d just met, watching the night fall and talking about…well, talking about whatever they were talking about. Diana was pleased, but she couldn’t decide why: perhaps it was purely the novelty of the situation, or the apparent intrigue of her companion.

“I can see that in you.” Diana said, now looking back. She never allowed herself to wander for more than a moment or two. There was definitely a touch of the night in Denver, a bit of darkness, but you had to look closely to spot it. “It’s there, but you don’t really act like it.” she paused, then realized she should probably clarify. “Not that I’ve observed a lot of your behavior, it’s just that seeing you and talking to you give very different impressions.” She considered adding another side, but decided against it. Denver wasn’t strange in a bad way, not in the least…in fact, he was much more interesting than one might expect at first glance.

“I can see that in you. It’s there, but you don’t really act like it. Not that I’ve observed a lot of your behavior, it’s just that seeing you and talking to you give very different impressions.” Diana spoke slowly, pausing occasionally.

Denver looked at Diana, quizzically. In her face, he saw little. She was saying it as if it was a statement of fact, and although she seemed a bit surprised by the statement, Denver could see that it was what she truly believed. Granted, she had absolutely no reason to lie, he reminded himself. That would be pointless. However, her statement mirrored his own thoughts.

"You know," Denver started. "You are certainly not the first person to think that, but I believe you are the first person to tell me that." He paused for a second before continuing. "I can see you as more of a day person, though. You have that quality about you. Granted, as you said, I don't really have much to go by, so I could be wrong. All I have is talking to you just this once. However, you do seem like more of a person who gets things moving, and who sets her own pace." Denver stopped. He had already said enough, and there really was no need to continue.

He liked talking to Diana. She was clearly an intelligent person, and it was refreshing talking to her. They were very similar in many ways, Denver decided. They may associate more with opposite ends of the day, but both were intelligent, observant, and thoughtful. Both were a mix of introversion or extroversion, though Denver was much less blended together. Denver was glad to have met Diana.

She felt as though she was spending too much time discussing herself, but for the first time in a long time wasn’t sure of anything else to say. She wasn’t sure if relaxation or nervousness had cleared her brain, but she felt an odd mixture of discomfort and happiness. Di had never really learned how to compartmentalize her life—she threw everything together in one big pile, and that was why it took so much energy to get to know her. "You know, you are certainly not the first person to think that, but I believe you are the first person to tell me that." She blushed a bit, but smiled in a way which created an odd contrast of expression. “I’m sorry, I’m not exactly one for holding back.”

"I can see you as more of a day person, though. You have that quality about you. Granted, as you said, I don't really have much to go by, so I could be wrong. All I have is talking to you just this once. However, you do seem like more of a person who gets things moving, and who sets her own pace." Many of his observations about her were adept, though not surprisingly so. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment, or maybe just a neutral declaration.” Diana said, thinking out loud. “You’re right. I try to keep people guessing. In theory, it makes them less likely to apply a label, but in practice, that’s rarely true.”

She was settling into an interesting sort of boredom, and around her the sky was settling into darkness. She was now in Denver’s territory, the night, and thus she would rely on him to lead their conversation out of ennui. Then again, perhaps he wasn’t experiencing the same lack of interest she was. There was too much Diana in Diana’s life, and not enough of intelligent, gorgeous guys like Denver. Banality could be telling, though.

Denver and Diana talked a bit longer before finally going back to the school. By that time, it was dark. While neither of them minded the night, Denver favoring it, it seemed to be an unspoken consensus that it was time to go back. The conversation had started to sink into a dull pattern that neither had a solution for, and Denver still had a ton of work to do, regardless. They parted ways once at the door of the dorm building, and Denver walked back to his room.

He really did like Diana. She was the kind of person who was opposite to him in many ways, the light to his submerged darkness. However, they were so similar in that both seemed to be extremely good at searching, analyzing, and comparing. Denver was still surprised by Diana's natural ability, something which he had developed only as a condition of his childhood in the public life. He wondered whether anything in particular had caused that for her, or if it was just a natural part of her personality, which he suspected was the case. She intrigued Denver, who was never easily intrigued.

A week or two passed before he saw Diana again. Both of them had been busy, and although they were in the same house, neither really made a huge effort to seek out the other. They were only in the 'passing acquaintances' stage, despite the depth of their conversation. Denver's friends had actually questioned him a great deal about what had taken place between the two of them, and although he was a good liar, he was glad to be able to honestly answer that they just talked. It wasn't that he did not like Diana, he just did not know her too well. This unnerved him, although she certainly had a charm about her. She caught him off guard.

Denver was preparing for the first quodpot match of the year, against Eberhardt House. The Eberhardt House was not bad, but based on the information they had received, Meriwether should easily trounce them. It was that morning at breakfast, and he was idly staring around the dining hall, looking for the sake of looking. His eyes traced the contours of the population, not really focusing on one person, but on the people as a whole. As always before a quodpot match, everyone was excited, buzzing with an odd combination of nervous energy and excitement. Quodpot matches, however, always seemed to have the opposite effect on Denver, calming him through familiarity.

His eyes glazed over the masses, but a movement from the corner of his eye pulled his attention to a familiar individual. Diana walked into the dining hall, moving at a leisurely pace towards the Meriwether tables.

The night before the first quodpot match of the season, Diana dreamed that Meriwether lost.

She wasn’t sure what it meant, but she was certain the image that was impressed so vividly upon her mind had a deeper significance than the average dream. Diana never remembered her dreams, but when she woke early that morning she could still see the dejected players leaving the field, the entirety of Eberhardt house already having run off somewhere to celebrate their unexpected victory. Although she didn’t have the time nor inclination to decipher the symbolism, she felt somehow her midnight musings weren’t portentous. She had great faith in her housemates’ abilities, which perhaps skewed her opinion.

As she considered the subject of quodpot, she thought back to the last sporting event she’d attended, and the interesting boy she’d made the acquaintance of there. Denver had managed to leave a lasting impression, though he hadn’t really come up in her thoughts much over the course of the past few weeks. They hadn’t spoken since that night, when, as darkness fell, they silently but mutually decided to return to their rooms. She wondered what sort of opinions he’d formed about her, for most of her own findings were vague and inconclusive. School and closer friends had soon drawn her attention, but today she was looking forward to seeing him play.

Most of her friends were incredibly jealous that the two of them had even spoken. She laughed them off, answering the probing questions sometimes with girlish honesty and sometimes with calculated crypticness. She didn’t know him well yet, and she felt like a liar when she was treated like an expert.

She dressed slowly that morning, to kill time—that was always an expression she’d loved, so violent and pedestrian and lovely—but even by the time she was fully prepared and her stomach growled in anticipation of breakfast, most of her closer friends snored softly in their beds. They weren’t quodpot girls, perhaps. Thus, she meandered to the hall all by her lonesome, and as she was scanning the room for empty seats and familiar faces, encountered just the one she’d been thinking of. She flashed Denver a smile as her eyes flashed across his and came to rest there.

There was space around him at the Meriwether table, but she wasn’t sure whether it was her place to take it. Of course, Diana was never one to question her instincts, and so she decided to amble, resolutely but casually nonetheless, and take a seat beside the young Ellington.

It felt surprisingly appropriate.

For once, the table around Denver was pretty empty. He knew he had gotten up earlier than most, including a lot of the quodpot players. In fact, it was strange--Denver was so used to being surrounded by people wherever he went in the school, unless he was incredibly sneaky. He knew the school in and out like the back of his hand, but he felt that using secret passages as a means of escape was cheating, because he created the risk of revealing the sacred passages to the general public.

So, the absence of people at his table seemed even more pronounced. As he watched Diana approaching his table, he smiled comfortably. While he was not comfortable around Diana, in the slightest, as she had seen more in one conversation than most people ever saw in years, he still enjoyed her company. Also, quodpot days were the only ones where he found the hustle and bustle of human contact reassuring. Most days, he would be content, if not thrilled, to be by himself, but on quodpot days, he could not seem to handle silence.

Diana looked a bit unsure, at first, of her decision. The look on her face showed doubt about whether it was the right choice to be making, at whether sitting next to him was a right she had the liberty to pursue. Denver's smile was somewhat of a reassurance--she was a welcome diversion from the suffocating emptiness of the dining hall. He really did need to stop getting up so early when he had a big match. It just served to set him on edge, something which rarely happened, but was unnerving when it did. Regardless, she pulled up the chair next to him and sat down. Denver smiled at the grace in her movements, not complete, but definitely noteworthy. She seemed at place in the seat next to him, which further enhanced his relief.

"Good morning. How are you today?" Denver started things out simply.