watch the garden grow

In sheer concentration, Tshering aimed her dagger at the tree across from her. Fifty feet, she noted, slight breeze. Thank goodness it was cold and therefore it was a quiet day at the lake, so there was no chance of her hitting anyone.

She released the dagger from her hand, watching it dart, slash through the air.

It landed on the hollow trunk of the tree perfectly. A slight wobble, but perfect.

The brunette smirked, walking slowly towards her dagger. After all, she needed some time to appreciate her handiwork.

Angel had been sitting by the lake all day. She was recovering from the flu, but the cold part had kicked in. She'd just sat there, drawing all day. She'd been all alone, until she heard someone behind her.

Dagger throwing? Angel watched in curiosity, putting down her drawing pad. She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, and then clapped slowly a few times.

From afar, Tshering could hear someone clapping. She pulled the dagger out of the tree, rolling her eyes. This was all amateur things. Once she had mastered the dagger, she thought, she would one day move on to archery.

The Ravenclaw turned around in the direction of the clapping, a smirk playing on her lips. "Thank you," she announced, doing a small curtsy.

Angel nodded simply. "I've seen you around before. You're that Tshering girl, right?" She nodded to herself, as if answering her own question.

"I see you transferred to Durmstrang. They don't teach that kind of stuff at Hogwarts," she gestured toward the knife. Absently, she lifted her drawing pad and started draw the lake again. Angel didn't even know why she was even talking to this girl. She just sort of felt like it.

(ooc: I am so sorry! I completely forgot!)

Tshering smirked once more at the sound of her last name being mentioned. "Indeed," she replied, "and I should thank you for being the first person to refer to me as such on their first try.

"Well, I am proud to be an autodidact in the art of dagger-throwing," Tshering proclaimed, her eyes twinkling with pride. She stared at the drawing pad. "You draw?" she asked, as if it was a statement rather than a question.

Angel nodded, deciding not to comment on the name.

"Ah, right," she said. Stopping her pencil for a littler while, she sighed. "Yeah, though it's not really something I'll make use of one day. Not like that." Angel continued, almost not paying attention.

"You, Berlin, and drawing," mused the Ravenclaw, her tone somewhat demanding, "you do it an awful lot. And don't say you can't make a future out of it; Van Gogh, Picasso, Kahlo - they all made it, didn't they?"

The girl then threw her dagger one more time at the tree, full concentration needed, before turning back to the girl and asking, "Do you mind if I take a look? I won't criticize you... much."