Ravenclaws are children of the moon. Nocturnal beings who thrives in lonely fields beneath the stars, candlelit library halls or by open windows, listening to the sounds of a near-silent world. Ravenclaws are said to have their head in the clouds; when in reality, they're simply looking up at the sky, always searching for shooting stars, swarms of butterflies or the rare glimpse of an eagle; enjoying the artwork of the sky, the one motive which a painting can never truly replicate.
Ravenclaws are easy to recognize; eternally bearing the mark of restless nights and ever-spiraling what if-thinking. Their thoughts spill out through their hands and leave their fingertips ink-kissed, their palms adorned with notes or idle drawings and fills their wrists with trails of tiny dots of spilt watercolour. Their fingernails are a canvas reflecting their mood; either covered in bright nail polish or completely bitten down.
Ravenclaws value logic and learning, but are prone to flights of imagination, leaving the world and its logic far behind. Brilliance was never created by compliance and so Ravenclaws walk their own path, happily living in solitude in search of the extraordinary.
Ravenclaws are nostalgic creatures; a consequence of growing up in a world full of books and wonder and knowledge. It's the Ravenclaws of the world that have searched houses for magical wardrobes, followed white rabbits and collected worn skeleton keys in the hopes of unlocking secret overgrown gardens, resembling something they once read. While an unexpected owl-delivered and wax-sealed letter telling tales of a wizarding school certainly would be a surprise to many, the Ravenclaws are the ones who read and reread the letter, silently accepting its content. Ravenclaws have walked in many realms during daydreams and night fantasies; always searching for and believing in magic.
Ravenclaw is softly moving curtains during harsh winds, whispered love declarations at midnight and always looking up at the night sky in search of a shooting star. Discarded notebooks with only a single line ever written and underlined poetry in a library book. Flicking through a magazine to read your horoscope before the articles. Ravenclaw is the heavy smoke that lingers in the air after blowing out a scented candle. The sound of a purring cat and hands marked by ink, doodles and paper cuts. It's setting out to do homework and ending up creating art instead; starting a dissertation and ending up with a fairy tale. The moment a pointless thought experiment turns into an irresistible idea. And most of all, it's the belief that wisdom is both what is written in books and what exists inside us all.
Ravenclaws are easy to recognize; eternally bearing the mark of restless nights and ever-spiraling what if-thinking. Their thoughts spill out through their hands and leave their fingertips ink-kissed, their palms adorned with notes or idle drawings and fills their wrists with trails of tiny dots of spilt watercolour. Their fingernails are a canvas reflecting their mood; either covered in bright nail polish or completely bitten down.
Ravenclaws value logic and learning, but are prone to flights of imagination, leaving the world and its logic far behind. Brilliance was never created by compliance and so Ravenclaws walk their own path, happily living in solitude in search of the extraordinary.
Ravenclaws are nostalgic creatures; a consequence of growing up in a world full of books and wonder and knowledge. It's the Ravenclaws of the world that have searched houses for magical wardrobes, followed white rabbits and collected worn skeleton keys in the hopes of unlocking secret overgrown gardens, resembling something they once read. While an unexpected owl-delivered and wax-sealed letter telling tales of a wizarding school certainly would be a surprise to many, the Ravenclaws are the ones who read and reread the letter, silently accepting its content. Ravenclaws have walked in many realms during daydreams and night fantasies; always searching for and believing in magic.
Ravenclaw is softly moving curtains during harsh winds, whispered love declarations at midnight and always looking up at the night sky in search of a shooting star. Discarded notebooks with only a single line ever written and underlined poetry in a library book. Flicking through a magazine to read your horoscope before the articles. Ravenclaw is the heavy smoke that lingers in the air after blowing out a scented candle. The sound of a purring cat and hands marked by ink, doodles and paper cuts. It's setting out to do homework and ending up creating art instead; starting a dissertation and ending up with a fairy tale. The moment a pointless thought experiment turns into an irresistible idea. And most of all, it's the belief that wisdom is both what is written in books and what exists inside us all.
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