Post by Isoba Dumisani Wyebourne on Jun 11, 2013 15:11:39 GMT -6
Shopping wasn't so much last on Isoba's list of favorite things as it wasn't anywhere on it. Still, every summer marked the time for that most cumbersome of trips to the store for supplies for the next school year. This year was slightly different though, true he was just going for school supplies, but now he was finally going to get something other than the normal sharpies and crayons and protractors and now he was finally going to be able to get his own cauldron. It had been a long day, Anya and his mother had long since tapped out and exited back out to the muggle world, presumably to watch a movie or something else that would take Anya's mind off the fuzzy creatures in the menagerie window.
Finally, though, it was over. He had loaded his trunk with books, all the ones on his supply list and a few that looked interesting, he'd gotten his cauldron and the ingredients to go into it, as well as some extra to practice at home with after his uncle promised to show him a trick or two. He'd been pinched and prodded and poked by a woman who proved that wizards simply had to concept of 'small' 'medium' and 'large' for clothing, and after some coercing from his sister before she was dragged off he had found himself with a small Boreal owl in a cage. Now all that was left was possibly the most important tool. The wand.
The bell over the door chimed merrily as the nearly-eleven year old entered the store. He looked around, it seemed almost like a shoe store inside, with the rows and rows of boxes on the shelves. It didn't smell like one, though, which was a great improvement. Though Isoba supposed any place could be improved by people simply keeping their shoes on. He looked back to his father in askance, unsure of what to do from here.
Finally, though, it was over. He had loaded his trunk with books, all the ones on his supply list and a few that looked interesting, he'd gotten his cauldron and the ingredients to go into it, as well as some extra to practice at home with after his uncle promised to show him a trick or two. He'd been pinched and prodded and poked by a woman who proved that wizards simply had to concept of 'small' 'medium' and 'large' for clothing, and after some coercing from his sister before she was dragged off he had found himself with a small Boreal owl in a cage. Now all that was left was possibly the most important tool. The wand.
The bell over the door chimed merrily as the nearly-eleven year old entered the store. He looked around, it seemed almost like a shoe store inside, with the rows and rows of boxes on the shelves. It didn't smell like one, though, which was a great improvement. Though Isoba supposed any place could be improved by people simply keeping their shoes on. He looked back to his father in askance, unsure of what to do from here.