All Your Little Quirks • h.ravenclaw ✓

⚪five

Helena is, once again, seated atop the tree when Arven finds her the next day, and once again, she doesn't notice him. But she looks so tranquil up in the branches, amidst the thick canopy, looking so at home, that he doesn't have the heart to bring her down. So he decides to wait, and sits down on the log that Helena has put wedged on the ground to function as a chair, and picks up the stick that she uses to draw.

The doodles on the ground, at first glance, don't seem to form any recognisable features, but as he tilts his head, he notices them forming shapes he is familiar with. The one nearest him is the drawing of a cat, with an overlarge tail and several whiskers nearly drowning its face. He suppresses a laugh and looks at another drawing.

This one looks like some flower, but due to the lack of colour, he doesn't recognise it. It has three petals, an odd feature, since people tend to draw a minimum of four, and its circular centre is dotted with what looks like fragments of leaves that she must have torn apart.

Another drawing, a little ways away from him, is that of a castle, with towers and high windows, and slanted roofs. A large double door adorns the front of the castle, with clumsily drawn patterns on it, and judging by the numerous tiny stick figures scratched out in front, which must be people, he can tell the castle is gigantic. This drawing is considerably better than the others, and it seems like she has put extra effort in drawing it nicely.

Arven shrieks suddenly as Helena shoves him from behind with a loud "Boo!" and stumbles away, heart pounding inside his chest and eyes wide. She flops down on the floor and draws her legs closer to her, before bursting into peals of laughter. "This is what you get for scaring me."

When his heart has stopped pounding, he begins to laugh with her. He slowly moves to a more comfortable position, only to realise that his hands have fallen on the castle, effectively ruining it. The smile evaporates from his face and he looks at Helena with an apologetic look, who doesn't notice him. He gestures toward the ruined doodle and her smile wipes away.

"Oh, it's okay, that wasn't very good anyway." But she says it in a slightly upset voice.

He fumbles around, silently cursing himself for not having brought his own writing materials, but the girl quickly disappears inside the tent and emerges with a parchment. He takes the quill and writes down, I'm sorry.

She waves him away. "Don't worry about it. Look, I went around the forest today and collected some flowers. Do you want to see them?"

Arven nods, and she disappears into the tent once again.

When she comes out, she has her hands behind her back and a mischievous smile on her face. He arcs a brow questioningly and she says, "Turn around."

He writes down a large WHY? and holds it out in front of her, but she huffs impatiently and waves a hand. "Turn around. Don't ask questions."

Reluctantly, he rolls over so that his back faces her. Moments later, he feels her come up behind him and place her hands on his shoulders. "Don't move."

Arven is both curious and suspicious of what she is up to, but his suspicion dissipates when her fingers reach out to his head, running through his hair. For a moment, he thinks she is brushing it, but then realises that she is merely putting the flowers in his hair. He protests halfheartedly, but soon gives in and lets her decorate his dark hair, listening patiently as her ocean of a voice drowns him in.

Some time later, she claps her hands and comes to sit in front of him, a broad grin on her face. "Look at you," she coos playfully, poking his cheek, and he brushes her hand away, hoping to hide the colour in his face. "I wish you could see my handiwork yourself."

For the first time today, Arven properly notices her. She is out of her old, worn out dress, but the new dress she is wearing is just the exact shade of blue as the previous one, and it sparkles in the firelight. Almost impulsively, he reaches a hand out and holds her right hand, bringing it closer to him. Her fourth finger is still bandaged. He raises a questioning eyebrow.

"I splinched it," she answers, curling her fingers so that they fit exactly into the palm of his hands. It's odd, he registers, how small her hand is compared to his when she is much taller than him. It's warm and comforting, and he doesn't ask what splinched means because he doesn't want to let go of her hand.

"You know," she says quietly, shifting toward him so that her voice doesn't become too inaudible. "My mother isn't the only reason I ran away. She is the reason actually, but there's also a man. He loves me, he wants to court me, and my mother wants us to tie the knot. But I don't want to. I want to travel the world, meet new people, make friends. I want knowledge and wisdom. This is my only weakness – my thirst for wisdom. I want to learn new things, but I can't do that if I'm bound to my home and family."

There's a lot of things Arven wants to say, but he doesn't want to break the flow of her words. So he nods and urges her to continue.

"My mother is a hypocrite," she spits menacingly. "She cut the knot with my father when he made it clear that he wouldn't tolerate her dream of teaching. Ravenclaw is my mother's maiden name – she didn't give me my father's name." Her hands tighten around Arven's and he feels her nails digging into his palm. He moves his thumb in circles over the back of her hand soothingly, and it works, for she lets out a smile. "And now she wants me to get married and live the rest of my life under my husband's orders. And I won't. Let. That. Happen."

Arven feels his insides nearly bursting with thoughts, the questions he wants to ask, the statements he wants Helena to know. He wants to tell her how much he admires her courage, how much he loves her silvery eyes, and the way her hair bounces around her shoulders. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is.

But he doesn't, because they have fallen into a peaceful silence that doesn't deserve to be broken, into a calming stillness that doesn't deserve to be disturbed. He looks into Helena's eyes and offers her a smile that he hopes would deliver all the words to her, and he hopes she understands. She links their fingers together, and despite his own fingers being long and spindly, they somehow fit perfectly.

Arven also wants to ask her that if she desires to travel the world, is she going to leave Albania soon?

But just like the rest of his thoughts, he keeps it inside as well and pushes it into the back of his mind. He isn't sure he wants to know the answer.