Sunrise Spirits [OPEN]

Jessie had tumbled out of her own bed before the sun had even risen and made her way to the Owelery. It here that she wrote a letter to her mom to ask if there was any news from her dad. He had been shipped out a few days before the parents weekend thing on some mission, and her mother hadn’t left the house since then just on the off chance that a letter came in. Jessie knew how she felt. For most of that week the young Gyrffindor had been in an almost constant state of booze or drug induced haze, and sometimes used both to achieve the desired effect. She had tried to only be slightly buzzed when she needed to be out in public, but other than that, she could almost only be found holed up in her room, or some distant, untraveled part of the castle.

The girl was always a wreck when her dad went away. He wasn’t some damn ambassador or even just a soldier. He was a Navy SEAL and that always meant his mission where never of the mundane sort. Back in the states, she had known plenty of kids whose dad’s had gone away and never came back. Some got to actually burry a body, but others were left with just two guys in dress uniforms and a letter saying their dad was dead, not even dog tags. Jessie’s dad had ‘lost’ his so the government made him a second set, and they were a constant companion of Jessie’s.

It was well past breakfast by now, but Jessie didn’t really feel all the hungry since she hadn’t had a joint of weed in well over six hours. But she did feel dead tired, so on her way back from sending the letter, she had stopped off at her tree top distillery and picked up a few bottles and a jug of lemon and mint moonshine before trotting back into the castle. She had been planning on going to her room with them when she spotted an open door. She went to her own room and stowed all the moonshine out of sight save one and wandered back to the open door, barely being framed by it when the blonde girl spoke.

Jessie smirked at her until it registered that she had said ‘cat’. Did she know or was she simply applying the old saying. Most likely the second of the two options, but it caught the American off guard for a moment. A smile stole over her face however when she was offered a drink and she held up the ever so slightly yellow tinted, clear liquid. ”Ah’ve got mine, but thanks for tha offer,” she said, her Southern draw coming out a bit thicker today, as they usually do when one has been drinking for days on end and not getting enough sleep. She looked over the girls shoulder in the mirror and cringed at her appearance. She looked like she hadn’t been sleeping either, what with her hair all a mess and light bags under her eyes. ”Damn Ah’m a mess aren’t Ah,” she said as a rhetorical question, still leaning against the frame of the door, a slight smile on her lips, more out of a habit than anything else.

Jessie Jameson. Layne stood there staring at the dark-haired beauty for a few moments, trying to get a grip on her current state of mind. Honestly, the girl looked like she had been to hell and back, which she imagined wasn’t far from the truth. Jess was always getting herself into something or other at school. She supposed that it had something to do with the girl transferring schools and being unable to find some sort of equilibrium. She looked slightly shaken by her greeting too, something that Layne was trying not to chuckle about. The blonde Gryffindor had occasion to frighten people with her...forwardness. Surveying the bottle that the girl had held up in protest for her own, Layne wasn’t surprised that the liquid was clear and probably much more alcoholic than the own rum that was in her hands, ”Welcome. Anytime. I’ve got buckets to share-” She said, pointing toward her open trunk that was expertly organized with the bottles from decreasing size from left to right. It was a work of art in her mind; alcohol was something beautiful, indeed, ”Right, American’s are famous for their booze, aren’t they?” She took a step around the girl and dropped the bottle of rum that had been occupying her hand onto her bed, using her newly freed hands to tighten the towel that was around her thin frame. 

Walking behind her as she stared in the mirror, Layne rested one of her hands on the girl’s shoulder and then gently took some of her hair into her hands and twisted it upwards so that it wasn’t falling on her back anymore. Jessie was right - in the mirror she looked even more like a mess than she had earlier. The girl’s eyes were dark and almost bloodshot, or at least that was how it looked to Miss Rosier. She could only assume that Jessie hadn’t been sleeping, which was unusual for the Southern Belle. Silently, Layne twisted the girl’s hair a little bit more, forming a slight braid and then tucking it around to for a bun of sorts. Using her teeth, she gently tugged on a hair elastic that was on her wrist and then pulled it off of her own wrist and began to put Jessie’s hair up, ”There. Now at least you don’t look nearly as -” She spun the girl around, using her shoulders to guide her and stared very carefully at her, ”Broken.” 

She was tempted to ask what was wrong with the young Miss Jameson, but she decided against it, realizing that even if she knew what was wrong with her, there was nothing to be done...except for perhaps to drink more. And since they were going to do that anyway, Layne wasn’t particularly concerned. It wasn’t until that moment, positioned slightly behind Jessie in the doorway of the common room that she realized there was someone nearly at the foot of the stairs, reading a book. ‘Curious,’ She thought with a slight smirk as she quickly identified the figure. Running her fingertips across the back of Jessie’s neck, absentmindedly, the blonde moved through the door all the way so that she had a better view of the floor that was beneath them.

Leaning over the banister that over-looked the rest of the common room, Layne’s eyes searched every visible inch of Sirius Black’s body. Sliding upwards, she finally settled on his eyes and raised both of her eyebrows, ”Oye Jess, look who’s back.” She had always had a strange fondness for the Gryffindor boy, that being said, she had certain fondnesses for a lot of people, but they didn’t necessarily mean anything at all. It was just the way that Layne functioned; she was a being that operated almost solely on sexual desires, and she had to admit that Sirius was...desirable in her eyes. At least sometimes, ”Isn’t this poetic, Black? Should you recite some shakespearian sonnets to us now?” She asked, snickering to herself slightly.