Not Exactly Shakespeare

As undesirable as Osmund found the stables to be, the boy oft traveled to them whenever he wanted a bit of privacy of his own. It seemed as if his old hiding places, unused classrooms, were far too popular to be able to be used in such a way and after that incident with getting locked in one of them, Osmund mistrusted the places. Thus the stables he found himself at that day.

He wasnt to brood in the peace that day, but rather do something he'd rather not do in plain sight; write poetry. His band, if they were to ever be as great as Poltergeist needed to start writing their own stuff and that meant lyrics must be written. Merlin knew Osmund had enough emotions that he hide from the world to pour into a poem, but it was the bad rep of poetry being for the meek or for females that drove Osmund to hiding in order to try his hand out on some lyrics.

"I never meant to hurt you with words made of steal. But sometimes I find it impossible to show how I really feel. My voice is always filled with doubt. When I try to sing it out...Merlin no, that sounds absolutely daft!" He paused with his singing and criticized himself, crumbling the lyrics into a ball and tossing it aside.

Annaliese being in one of the other stalls with a horse, heard him. She smiled to herself. Closing the stall door, making sure her blue dress didn't get caught she stepped out and saw Osmund. Crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, he still hadn't seen her. "That sounded great to me." She smiled at him picking up the cascaded piece of paper.

Osmund wasn't aware of anyone else being present in the stables. He had been negligent to check the stalls to see if anyone was visiting the flying horses when he had entered and took the evident peace and quiet that filled the place as a sign that it was empty of all other people. Now aware of another being present, his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink as he realized that they had indubitably heard his singing.

"No one was supposed to hear that," he noted in a slight hostile tone, as if it might be her fault that she had been in that place at that time. He looked to her hands where his lyrics rested in a crumpled up ball and wanted to ask for it back just so she wouldn't read what he had written. "It's horrible, trust me," He said as he extended a hand into which he expected the paper to be placed in.

Annaliese wasn't one to disobey people. She sighed handing it to him. "I thought it was great." She smiled. "You're a natural." She looked at the paper then him encouragingly. "What are you writing it for anyways? She asked nicely. "You like music?" She said hopefully.

Of course it had to be someone he knew, out of all the people to catch him singing and writing poetry, two things that he would never willingly do in front of an audience. "You're....Annaliese or something," he said, disinterestedly, only really wanting to get his lyrics back before she read them. He smiled somewhat smug like when she complimented his work. "Well I have been doing this stuff for a while now, I would hope that I at least don't suck." He couldn't imagine what Xavior would think of him if a first year thought he sucked. Would he be exiled from the band?

"Asking me whether or not I like music is like asking if I like air," Osmund replied, snarkily. He had yet to meet someone who didn't enjoy a good tune once in a while, but for him, the passion went deeper than that. His collection of records and obsession with the frontman of the band Poltergeist were all ways Osmund tried to take a break from reality and escape. He unfolded the paper he had so cruelly abandoned moments ago and looked over what he had written once more. "No, my band mates will never approve of this."

Annaliese raised her eyebrow. "Don't be such a downer. Honestly, I've been interested in music my whole life. Playing singing, writing ect. So I know what I'm talking about when I hear something good. I know I'm young, but age is but a number." She said matter-of-factly.