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| Author: | Yendys [ Thu Mar 03, 2011 5:16 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Este tem cheiro de nada... |
((Trying one of these. Not sure exactly how weird it'll be to write present-tense prose about a RP character, but hopefully it'll work itself out.)) The hour is late, but the room is still lit - by the flames burning in the fireplace, by the candles on the desk, and by a slender wand laying on top of the covers. A teenage girl lays in the bed, her eyes open, staring at the wall in front of her face. Every few minutes she moves, pulling her legs up or rolling to her other side, but never closes her eyes. A log settles in the fireplace and she sits upright, clutching the blankets to her chest with her right hand while the other gropes for her wand; Before it finds the stick of wood, she relaxes, and the hand returns to her lap as she lays back down to stare sleeplessly at the ceiling. The words echo in her mind. "A draught...you would be in a sense of Peace." The thought was tempting. Every minute - every moment - that she lay here, wishing for and dreading sleep at the same time, made her want it more. She closes her eyes lightly, and considers... Quick footsteps on the stone floor, through the commons, out the doors and down some stairs, down the corridor and up more stairs. Two flights. Then, through another corridor and around a corner. A knock on the door. Her badge is here, and it gets her inside. Then... She opens her eyes. No. She sits up quickly in the bed, grasping her wand, and checks the dark corners. Nothing, nothing, nothing...nothing. No sounds, save for the crackling of the fire. The room smells like nothing. She uses her free hand to move the covers off her legs, and swings them down onto the floor. As she walks, the carpet gives way to stone, chilling the soles of her bare feet. She sits at the desk, and sets her wand down upon the smooth wooden surface. It rolls slightly to the side, then comes to rest, casting stark shadows on the wall. She brushes some loose hair back, and reaches for one of the many volumes scattered across her workspace. Some time later, she looks up from the pages. The fire was burning lower, and a deep chill had penetrated her feet where they were touching the floor. She slips a bit of parchment into the book to mark her place, closes it softly, and lays it on the desk. Picking up her wand, she slowly stands and moves her stiff legs, working some warmth back into them. She walks back to the bed and sits down on the edge, lifting her legs onto the mattress and pulling the blankets up around her shoulders before she lays down. She clutches the wand in both hands, the tip a few inches in front of her lips, and closes her eyes. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Wed Mar 09, 2011 9:13 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
"Professor McGonagall, Coruzinha! And don't stop to play by the lake this time, it's important." The girl leans out the window of the owlery, watching until her owl flutters out of sight. The hour is mid-morning, and she's already dressed for the day, though her hair still hangs loose around her shoulders. A chill morning breeze whips the hair around her and she shivers, though she doesn't hurry her descent back to the stairwell. Slowly she re-enters the school, walks down a few floors, and climbs Ravenclaw tower to her room. A white cat slips around her ankles as she closes the door behind her, and she picks it up. It mews in protest, and a slight smile appears on her lips. "I know, my hands are cold...sorry." She sits on the edge of her bed, still holding the cat in her lap, and speaks to it absentmindedly. "Voodoo...I guess that's as good a term as any, really. For all those bad feelings, bad actions and bad magic. It's like the flu, Sasha. One person catches it, then it just spreads through everyone. If I yell at him, it's just more of that, going around, and around, and..." Her voice trails off, though she continues tracing circles on the cat's fur for a few moments before letting her hand come to rest. "But I already spread it around some, didn't I? At least it wasn't to anyone who wasn't already infected." The cat squirms slightly under the weight of her still hand, and she lets it slip off her lap and under the bed. With a slight sigh, she gets to her feet and exits the room. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Mon Apr 25, 2011 5:17 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
The sunlight flowing in through the twin windows marks the time to be a few hours after dawn. While the windows face west, not east, the sun has risen far enough in the sky that its light illuminates the small room in the castle. A girl lays sleeping under the windows, a book as her pillow. A thin bedroll is all that separates her from the stone floor, and a blanket draped over top of her all that wards off the morning chill. The sound of students hurrying along to their first outdoor classes is muffled, as much by the distance from the ground as the tightly closed windows. Her eyelids flutter - once, twice - and then open. She stares across the room at the stone wall for a few moments, then pushes herself off the ground slightly, shutting the book and shifting it off onto the floor. Clutching the blanket around herself for warmth, she slowly sits up, blinking a few more times in the morning light. She spots a slender wand lying on the floor about a foot from where she had been sleeping, and reaches out her left hand to pick it up. "No-" she begins to speak, but then stops, a slight frown touching her lips; the wand's tip holds no light. She glances up, her eyes flicking around the room, from the old wooden cart to the table and chairs. There's nobody here...nobody except for me. She stands up and slips the wand into her belt, setting the library volume on the table, and walks to the door, reaching out her hand once more to test the knob. It begins to turn under her hand, then hits a resistance - the door is still locked, the way she'd left it the night before. She removes her hand from the knob and steps back towards the window, glancing out over the grounds. Her eyes follow a small group of younger students - their house affiliation impossible to detect from the sixth floor - as they dash across the grounds. Probably late for Herbology. She glances behind her to the book, a field guide to fungi, sitting on the table, then back out the window once more, rubbing the blanket through her fingers as she watches. This blanket...did I bring a blanket? I didn't intend to sleep here, so why would I... She frowns again, sliding the blanket off of her shoulders and holding it in front of her, examining the material and weave of it. This is not mine. Who-? The frown fades as a slight comprehension dawns on her face. She pulls the blanket around her shoulders again and leans against the wall in a spot where she is able to see out the window without being seen in return. Smiling slightly, she rests her cheek against the cold stone wall and watches the last stragglers as they make their way across the grounds. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Wed Jun 15, 2011 1:29 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
The hour is late and the fires burn low in the twin fireplaces located on opposite walls, the floating candles illuminating the four tables that stretch away towards the double doors at the far end of the hall. In the center chair of the large table at the front of the room, a girl sits, her legs crossed in the seat and her wand held in her lap. Her gaze flicks from one fireplace to the other, then to the double doors, then back to the fires in a tireless loop. Coffee before bed. Who does that? Now I have to sit here and make sure she doesn't come back down for some. She brushes some strands of hair back behind her shoulders, wincing slightly as her hand reaches a tangle. Wind. I love the feel of it, but it destroys hair. I wonder how long it'll take to work out these knots. It'll be even worse over the weekend, though. I can't believe we leave tomorrow. Her mouth twists in an expression that could be read as a smile, a grimace, or some combination of both. I can't believe I missed the announcement. Preste atenção, minha querida filha, ou você vai perder tudo. It's funny how far I've come, this magical world, all these things. And yet, I fall into the same traps I did as a child, in new and creative ways. Papai would laugh. Never the same thing twice, but infinite variations... She closes her eyes for a moment, then snaps them open again, her gaze darting around the room. Preste atenção! Her shoulders relax slightly as she leans back in the headmaster's chair, her eyes still alert. If he's right, there'll be trouble. Students cheering for opposite sides, or those who believe that, just because they're outside of the school grounds, they can do whatever they want. It doesn't work like that. The wand twirls between her fingers, constantly in motion as she fidgets absentmindedly. It should be interesting. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Sun Jun 19, 2011 6:34 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
Dawn is breaking over the castle, though the cloudy sky obscures most of the early rays. Steady rain is falling, and much of the ground has turned to mud. A simple wooden door in the side of the castle opens, then closes. Unless you knew what to look for, you'd never know that someone had emerged. Moving quickly along the path, the disillusioned figure follows it past the ground keeper's cottage and into the forest. The darkness swallows up all visual signs of their passage, and the only sound they make is the quiet footfalls of bare skin against the damp detritus carpeting the ground. Moving deeper into the forest, there is a wall with a gate set in it. A quiet grunt, barely audible over the sound of rain against the leaves, betrays the effort required to push the heavy wooden gate open. The disillusionment charm fades and dies, revealing a girl standing on the path. Her long brown hair is soaked, as are her clothes, but she doesn't seem to be bothered by either this or the streams of water running down her face. She stands motionless for a moment, considering the ancient stone ruins around her, then continues onwards, deeper into the forest. She leans into another gate to open it and slips through, leaving the path and stepping across a series of rocks to cross a stream that lies across her path. Her feet move quickly, seemingly without consideration of their path, as if she has trodden it many times before. She follows the stream for a while as it winds through a grove, then takes a sharp turn through a nearly-hidden passage. Closing her eyes, she tilts her face up to the rain as she walks, holding both hands slightly in front of herself in case she walks into anything. But she doesn't. She opens her eyes as she steps into a patch of grass, as if the change from muddy leaves to muddy greenery was a signal. A chasm stretches in front of her, spanned only by a long log, which she crosses quickly yet with more care than she's shown at any point in her walk so far. The rain lets up as she sets foot on solid ground on the other side, and she smiles slightly, continuing to walk along the side of the cliff. She stop as she comes to a waterfall spilling down into a pond below, and takes off her bag, setting it on the stone at the edge of the cliff. Stripping down to her undergarments, she lays her soaked shirt and pants over a nearby boulder and sits down, lowering her muddy feet into the stream. She opens the flap of her bag and draws out her wand, twisting her hair around it into an elaborate knot before whispering an incantation, lifting her hair off her neck in a messy bun held in place magically by the slender stick of wood. Reaching down to her feet, she slowly washes the dirt from her feet and ankles, watching as it is carried away over the edge by the swift current. Sighing softly, she draws her feet out of the water and clasps her knees to her chest, looking out over the pond. Revenge. There's no point to it. Somebody hurts you, so you hold on to the pain, the anger, all of it, and then throw it back to them as hard as you can? Eye for an eye, arm for an arm, life for a life. I wouldn't expect any better from most people here, but I wanted so badly to believe that he would never stoop so low. Of course he didn't do it, but asking another to do the deed for you doesn't make you innocent in the matter, regardless of how you might twist the truth when explaining what happened. I wish I hadn't asked what that burning smell was. Even though I stopped him before he told me the entire story, it's still easier not to know at all than to lie, even for a friend. The sun finally breaks through the clouds and she tilts her head back, breathing in deeply and closing her eyes as a light breeze brushes across her face. There's a certain smell after it rains; it's one of the best smells in the world. Right now, it's already disappearing. Scent is ephemeral like that. So wonderful, but it slips away... She opens her eyes, staring up through the trees at the sky, and stretches her legs out in front of her. Let the sun do its work. Soon I'll be dry enough to go back. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Wed Jun 22, 2011 7:38 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
It is a cool summer evening, the breeze penetrating through the trees into the glade even though the sun has slipped below the treeline. A girls sits on a rock in the middle of a stream, her grey pants rolled up above her knees and her shoes and socks abandoned on the bank. She leans forwards, resting her arms across her knees, staring at the stone wall in front of her. Maybe she's right. Secrets...is it paranoia, or the logical thing to do? I don't want to cause panic, or to worry people if there's no cause. But at the same time, maybe it's an action that should have been taken weeks ago. Her eyes study the sheer cliff rising in front of her. Green lichen grows at the bottom, creeping up for only a short distance before the hard grey stone defeated its efforts. I wish he'd talk to me. To give me a chance to explain myself...and for him to explain, too. Maybe he's been damaged by what's happened in the past, I can understand that. But why take it out on me, just because I don't want to go charging off into the unknown? He wants freedom, he doesn't want to be told what to do, he wants to be able to take care of her...but he's not careful. He blindly shouts challenges into the night, he doesn't know where, how many, or, most importantly...why. She stands abruptly, taking slow steps towards the cliff face. Her walk is uneven as she navigates the bed of the stream, and she winces slightly each time her foot comes down on a rock that shifts, causing her ankles to turn. She stops as she gets within an arm's length of the rock cliff face. People are motivated by so many different things. Self-preservation, love, hate, envy...justice. But are we even dealing with people? Define people. People are those beings which have souls. Define soul. Exactly. This close to the cliff, small cracks and variations in the rock are evident; what appears to be a smooth surface from a distance, is in fact rough and fractured. She reaches out an arm and runs her fingers across the surface, gently at first and then more roughly, smiling slightly as the slight ridges on her fingertips scrape against the rugged surface. Everybody puts on a show, to some extent. They wrap it around themselves, and present it as what they want people to see. Some people wear it like armor, using it as a defense. Others use it to deceive, or to manipulate. For some people it's thick, and others it's thin. Is it really such a bad thing? Secrets and lies can be used to hurt, and they have been in the past. But if you tell everybody everything, then where's the element of surprise? Knowledge is power. Some things...should be kept quiet. An insect crawls out of one of the cracks, and she alters the path of her fingers subtly so as not to disturb the smaller creature's scramble up the sheer wall. But is this one of those things? If it only affected them, then perhaps. But it's spreading, affecting others. Simply ignoring it is not working. The incidents are escalating as they fail to get the reaction that whoever is behind them wants. Other students are getting dragged into the situation. And that's assuming that they haven't already been, that it wasn't supposed to have been Ana Celine who was taken that day, instead of Evelyn Grant. Both are short Gryffindor girls with red hair in pigtails...it would be easy to make the mistake. She clenches her jaw and closes her eyes, taking a step forward and resting her forehead against the cold stone, pressing the palm of her hand flat against the cliff. It was careless to assume that the incidents weren't connected. Of course I made the obvious connection. Any half-brained idiot would have. But, all this time, there was the question...why Evelyn? Such a sweet girl, who would want to attack her? I assumed it was random, an innocent girl chosen in order to make people want to protect her. Maybe it wasn't. It shouldn't have taken another person to make me consider that. Why didn't I think of it on my own, before now? Taking a deep breath, she draws back from the cliff, frowning intently as her hand drops back to her side. The point at which a secret begins to affect those who are not keeping it is the point at which it should no longer be kept a secret. Red is right. Zane won't help. Whether that's selfish or his right - or both - isn't evident yet. But there are other people, and it's past time for them to be told. It's not just one person's problem anymore, if it even ever was. It's time to find out what we're dealing with. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Thu Jul 07, 2011 12:05 am ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
The fire burns low, and the castle is nearly silent at this late hour. The door to the room opens, and a girl walks in, closing it tightly behind her. Running her hands through her hair, she sighs, then touches her right side as a frown touches her lips. She walks over to the small mirror hanging on the wall and draws her wand, flicking it at the mirror, which drops to reflect her torso. Turning to the left, she lifts her dark blue sleeveless shirt to display a partially-healed, four-inch-long slice over the side of her ribcage. The frown deepens as she runs her fingers along it. It's better than it was, so the potion is working, at least. It was stupid of me to attempt the healing right then. It was clean and simple, only skin deep, but I couldn't see what I was doing and I was in a rush; I know those are two of the biggest problems I have with delicate spellwork. But there's no permanent harm done, I hope. She lets the shirt fall back down to barely cover her belt, flicking her wand at the mirror again to return it to its previous location on the wall, and sets the Willow stick down on her desk. I still didn't deserve it. The first, perhaps. But not that one. She sighs again and runs her hands through her hair, grimacing as they hit tangles. Shaking her head, she uses her hands to brush the entire mess back behind her shoulders, leaving the tangles for now. I can still smell her cigarettes in my hair. I'll have to take a proper bath in the morning. Five minutes with a towel and a bit of water doesn't help much. Her gaze falls upon the crumpled set of class robes in the corner - stiff in a patch where blood had dried - with a still-damp bloody towel thrown carelessly on top of them. Better than most people, then? It's not like that's saying a great deal. Apparently, my rudeness was forgivable, though. Maybe we can get through this without any more...unnecessary slicing. She pulls out the chair at the desk and sits in it, pushing a stack of papers to the side to clear a space to work. Retrieving a sheet of parchment from the drawer, she picks up her quill and begins to write out a report. As the minutes slip by, she first begins to blink tiredly, then brings up her right arm to support her head before yawning widely. Before long, her head slowly drops down to the desk and the quill falls from her fingers as she slips into sleep. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Thu Jul 07, 2011 3:16 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
The sky is clear as the mid-morning sun shines down, spreading its warmth to everything it touches. A girl lays atop a rock, her long brown hair fanning out around her face as she turns it to the sun, her eyes closed. The parts of her tanned skin that are exposed around her shirt and pants soak up the rays as she suns herself. Too afraid to say anything? No. She doesn't understand. Sighing quietly, she brings her arms up above her head, her dark blue shirt tugging up as she does so but held in place by the white belt fastened around her waist. Twisting over slightly to one side, she rotates her body to receive the warmth of the sunlight on her right side. So cold. But it's getting better now. Did he only help in order to convince me that it was a misunderstanding? I should be more offended by that than I am. It was no accident, nor was it a misunderstanding between the two of us. It was a deliberate retaliation, one which I partially deserved, but far from an accident. Nothing he could have said would have convinced me not to report it, had I been intending to. But I made that decision last night. She opens her eyes, resting her cheek against the smooth rock and looking out along it. A small beetle travels swiftly, only a few inches from her face, and she holds her breath in until it passes, then exhales, breathing deeply and slowly. He doesn't understand my motivation either. Do I? Her introspection is interrupted by a tall, dark-haired boy. "What are you doing?" he asks, looking down at her on the rock. She blinks, then turns around, masking her surprise as she responds, calmly and evenly. "What does it look like I'm doing?" "Laying on a boulder." It's not terribly complicated, Wesley. Sometimes things are what they appear to be. "Yes." She responds, looking back at him, her face showing no sign of her irritation at being interrupted. "I'm exercising my fundamental right as a human being to lay on boulders and enjoy the sun." She closes her eyes and turns her face away slightly, signaling the end of the conversation. Wesley Cross chuckles. "Well, good luck with a tan." "Already have one." Her eyes are still closed as she replies, the boy already walking back towards the school. What am I doing, working with these people who play endless games? Manipulation, accidents, misunderstandings...sometimes, people just lay down on boulders and feel the sun on their skin. Not everything has to have a secret meaning. A large snowy owl swoops down low over her, dropping a note on her chest. She lowers her arms, sitting up and picking up the note to read it. Her eyes scan the writing and she nods, slipping it into her pocket as she stands and walks back towards the castle. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Mon Jul 11, 2011 5:02 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
A girl stands in front of a small mirror on the wall, comb in hand, raking it through the strands of her wet, tangled hair. Prioritize. That's easy for her to say. Between her classwork and her self-defense training, it's easy for her to pick priorities. Besides my classes, I have work in the library as well as prefect shifts. Just those three alone are already a balancing act, with one ball always in the air, but with everything they want me to add on top of it? Extra prefect meetings, two hours of physical conditioning each day, research... Glancing into the mirror, she meets her own gaze, frowning in realization. I haven't worked on my own project in over a month. She winces as it catches a tangle, distracting her from the thought, and uses her fingers to assist the plastic tool in its efforts to untangle her thick hair. What does she want me to choose? I already operate on extensions for the classwork that can wait. The professors have been remarkably lenient about it, as long as I get it turned in. But some things can't wait. Hedera Vesper can't. Potions can't - Snape is unforgiving. Everything else can be - has been, countless times - pushed back. Priorities. I can't abandon my work in the library or as a prefect, including the additional meetings or the training. Do I stop searching for that name? Do I abandon my friends entirely? Even if I do both those things, I might not have enough time. Putting the comb down on her desk, she gives her head a slight shake and combs the loose strands back with her fingers, unfastening the two hair clips from the neck of her shirt and clipping her wet hair back. And what about the things I've already dropped, despite my agreements to do them? I haven't sought information about the cat. I haven't spoken to Zane about Ana's concerns, as I promised her I would. And...Lazarus. I haven't managed to get back to the library in over a day; Madam Pince probably cleaned up my work area by now. She runs her fingers over the smooth, clear skin of her face, brushing off a few flakes of dry skin from the side of her jaw. Anyone who thinks I have the time, let alone the inclination, to fall in love right now is mad. Turning away from the mirror abruptly, she crosses the room to her bed, slinging her bag over her shoulder and quickly makes for the door. Maybe I have a few hours for the library. My essay on Stonehenge can be turned in the day after tomorrow. Or next week. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Thu Aug 18, 2011 3:37 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
She walks into the inner courtyard, her bare feet passing over first the stones and then the grass as she approaches the large tree. She takes a sip from her mug of tea and sets it down on the ground, reaching her arms above her head to grasp the branches of the tree. Stepping onto a protruding knot, she pulls herself up, reaching higher as her foot curls around the narrow ledge. She finds a new foothold and steps up with her other foot, pulling as she does so, high enough now to wrap her arms over the branch. Her left foot swings free, waiting for the next foothold, even as her other foot slips off its narrow perch. Her face barely has time to register surprise before she's plummeting down, caught by gravity. Her right foot - the one that betrayed her - hits a surface, not too hard, and for a brief moment everything seems alright. Then the mug of tea that her foot struck tilts to the side, hot liquid spilling and burning the skin of her foot as she frantically tries to regain her balance. Her left foot comes down against the ground, but too hard and at a bad angle, and the crack of something snapping echoes around the courtyard as she falls to the ground, crying out softly at the unexpected pain. She grimaces, then yanks her right foot away from the hot liquid pooling around the toppled mug, holding the wet pants leg away from her skin with one hand while the other grasps her other ankle. Gritting her teeth, she fumbles for her wand, flicking it at her burned foot. "Aguamenti." The cool stream of water washes over her foot, cooling it and soothing the light burns. Taking a deep breath, she sets the wand down and tries to flex her other ankle, making a stifled cry. Way to go, not only have you spilled your tea but you've also broken something. And not a healer in sight. What are you going to do now, crawl back inside on your hands and knees and hope you encounter someone sympathetic who'll help you up the stairs? Grimacing, she scoots backwards to lean against the tree, a flash of pain crossing her face every time her left foot scrapes against the ground. Settling back against the rough bark, she relaxes slightly, still breathing hard. She picks up her mug, setting it upright next to where she is sitting. I chose this place because people rarely come out here. But...people rarely come out here. If I choose to wait, how long could I be waiting for? But the alternative...I suppose I do have some dignity, after all. Closing her eyes against the morning sunlight, she sighs, grasping her ankle gently as she settles in for a long wait. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Sat Sep 10, 2011 9:59 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
The first rays of morning sun are beginning to filter through the trees into the well-traveled forest path, chasing away the early chill. A teenaged girl walks slowly along the path from the campground, her hair left to hang loose over her jacket, jeans and boots - a utilitarian outfit, meant for the outdoors. She glances over her shoulder before reaching into her small messenger bag and drawing out her wand, flicking it at herself and whispering the incantation. "Disillusion." She fades into the backdrop of the forest, enough to fool the casual eye, though the spell does nothing for the crunching of the leaves and twigs beneath her boots as she leaves the path. Ducking under a low-hanging branch, she peers around a thick trunk and spots it. Exhaling quietly in awe, she slowly approaches the ancient tree, now toppled over on its side, broken roots touching air rather than soil. At the sight, she takes a few quicker steps towards it, then hesitates. Do not be stupid. Taking another deep breath, she edges around the old tree, keeping well out of reach of the roots, though they just hang in the air, dead. As she circles the tree, the large hole hacked into the bottom of it comes into view, and she exhales, a look of sadness crossing her face. She hesitates for only a moment before approaching the tree and running her hands over the ragged edges of the hole, speaking quietly to herself. "What did she do to you, you beautiful, horrible, thing?" Stepping back, she sniffs her fingers where they collected the sap of the broken wood, frowning slightly in concentration. Moving along the trunk to the lowest branches, she crouches down and cups a five-pointed leaf in her hand for a moment, before letting it drop. "No...no..." She mutters to herself, straightening up, the look of sadness on her face deepening as she walks back to the brutally-chopped hole and stares into the heart of the tree. How could she? It's rare, one of the last of its kind! It was going to kill Emily. Liss had to act. But there has to be another way that wouldn't end like this. Everything has a non-lethal weakness. Scare it, not kill it. But who can think like that? She had seconds to act, to save Emily... ...but it's Liss. Of course she'd turn to the violent solution first, without a second thought. Because there's no other way, no avoidance, misdirection or disabling, only the win. Total destruction of the possible threat. A tear trickles down her cheek and she wipes it away, leaving a smudge of sticky sap on her face. And it's only a tree, she would say. A tree, just doing what it somehow evolved over the millennia to do. We're only human animals, nothing special. What gives us the right to destroy this thing? This wonderful magical plant, only doing what's in its nature to do. It doesn't know any better. Didn't. She blots her eyes again, using the sleeve of her jacket this time, and takes in a deep breath before waving her wand and canceling her charm - there's no danger in these woods any more. Slipping her wand away again, she walks back to the path, anger slowly overcoming the sadness in her expression as she goes. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Mon Sep 19, 2011 1:58 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
Snow falls, unusual for this time of year, as the cloaked and hooded figure strides along the cliff bordering the lake. Her wand is in her left hand, though it doesn't shed any light to push back the darkness of the early night. She walks along a narrow rock bridge and stops on a small round ledge, looking down at the ice-cold waters below. So cold so early. I want autumn. She exhales, her warm breath meeting the frigid air in a white cloud. I can't stay out for long, but there's still time for practice. She flicks her wand in the simple motion. "Lumos." A small, white light appears at the very tip of her wand, shining brightly for its size. She holds the wand up in front of her face, staring at the light for a moment before taking a deep breath in and tipping the wand back over her shoulder. Exhaling, she swings it forward in a casting motion, her eyes focused on the blur of the tip. As her arm fully extends, she frowns. It won't work. Why won't it work? Her eyebrows lower as she considers her wand, the frown deepening. She gives it a good shake from side to side, rubbing her forehead as the light remains stubbornly attached to the tip. Her frown fades as she looks at her wand, once again pulling it behind her shoulder and casting it as if it was a fishing rod. The light pulls away from the tip of the wooden stick for a fraction of a second, but then snaps right back as if it was attached with elastic. Sighing, she tucks a strand of hair back under her hood, frowning at the wand. It keeps happening, over and over. What do I have to do to make it let go? Shaking out her shoulder, she looks out over the lake for a moment, and then moves her wand through the motion once more. The frown deepens as the speck of light fails to budge, then turns into an angry grimace as she starts to slash her wand violently through the air. Get! The wild swings of her wand appear to be completely random, the light a blur in the darkness. Off! She continues to glare at the stick of wood as she waves it around, all the stress of recent days coming out in the violent motion. My! It moves faster, back and forth, up and down and across diagonals, like a playground game of crack the whip with an end of the line that just won't let go. Wand! As she snaps it down sharply, the light abruptly separates from the tip and begins to float down towards the water below. For a few moment, she doesn't even notice, continuing her wild motions until something - changing shadows, or the absence of the blur of light in front of herself - causes her to cease her motions, staring at the tiny glow as it falls. It worked. I can't believe it worked. Her eyes fixed on the light, she doesn't even notice as her wand slips from her loose grip and tumbles down towards the lake below. The wand enters the water with a light splash, barely audible over the other nighttime noises. Several seconds later, the tiny glow touches the surface of the water, winking out. A moment later, the girl curses loudly as she notices her loss, but the few ripples still heading towards shore are the only sign that remains of what happened. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Wed Oct 05, 2011 10:53 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
The girl sleeps on the golden stairs, her feet resting on the lower steps while her head lies atop her arms on the landing. She stirs, then awakens, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and brushes her loose hair back behind her shoulders as she stands. She frowns uncertainly and begins to climb the stairs, her gold silk pajamas rustling almost imperceptibly with every step she takes. After a few moments, she reaches a landing and walks through an archway, stepping out onto a flat platform overlooking the city. Every surface is made of gold, and the city of towers is brightly lit despite the pitch black sky. The girl steps to the edge of the platform, her bare toes curling over the edge as she spreads her arms for balance, looking out over the strange city. There is a slight breeze, which tugs subtly but insistently at her hair and clothes, beckoning her over the edge. Without hesitation, she steps off the ledge into nothing. She plummets towards the ground, tilting forwards into a horizontal position as she makes the transition from free fall to flight. Her descent slows as she begins to glide forwards, arms spread as if they were wings. There are people walking in the lower towers below her, men and women dressed in shades of yellow, blue and teal. She closes her eyes and begins to fly a sweeping spiral around one golden tower, gaining altitude. As she crosses the very top of the spire, she slows and begins her descent, tilting down into a dive with her arms held tightly at her sides. Despite the air whipping past her face, she does not blink or squint, her eyes locked on the dots moving far below, rapidly resolving into people. At the last possible moment, as collision appears inevitable, she flings her arms out to her sides and turns the dive into a glide, speeding along a scant foot above the heads of the tallest people. None of them look up, or appear to notice the girl at all, as they continue about their business. She begins to rise, still using the momentum of her dive, and rolls over to fly upside-down as her speed slows. The single large moon in the sky shines, its surface concealed by blue clouds. She rolls over again, just in time to tilt to the side, avoiding one of the tower walls. Letting herself fly lower, she weaves between the golden architecture, swerving and twisting as necessary to avoid hitting anything. She smiles gently as she flies, an expression of serenity. * * * Curled up in bed, the blanket pulled to her shoulders, the girl sleeps. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Fri Oct 14, 2011 6:13 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
The girl slips her wand away into her shoulder bag as she exits the dueling hall, glancing both ways down the hall before joining the early afternoon mass of students moving through the castle. She walks into the entrance hall, glancing around at the students loitering near the various walls and pillars. She's gone. Good. Who does that girl think she is, anyway? Joki Wilde? A poor imitation. She rolls her eyes at the thought, adjusting her bag as the flow of the crowd carries her out the front doors. As she exits the castle, however, she turns left towards the gates instead following the group of students towards the greenhouses. The crisp fall breeze tugs at her hair, and she closes her eyes, tilting her chin up as she walks to enjoy the gentle touch of the chilly air on her face. Boring. Too...slow. A grin spreads across her face as she opens her eyes, breaking into a sudden run. She brushes past a startled Gryffindor boy, and dodges a confused Slytherin couple. Her black boots hit the grass in rhythm as she sprints down the path, out the gate, and through the station. Finally, as she approaches the gate to Hogsmeade, she slows, breathing heavily. Fun. Turning left as she enters the village, she walks up the hill and sits beneath a tall tree, dangling her legs over the edge of the terraced hill so that the heels of her boots tap against the stone wall holding the earth back. Slipping the strap of her bag over her head, she sets it on the grass beside her, slipping out a hardcover volume of Greek mythology. She opens it and flips through the worn pages, quickly finding the story she's looking for. She reads quickly, seeming to use the words on the page only as a vague reminder of a story she already knows by heart. Daedalus, exiled to Crete, built the Labyrinth for Minos. When Theseus arrived to slay the Minotaur, it was Daedalus who told Ariadne the secret of the Labyrinth, which she told to Theseus, who she loved, in turn. For his crime, both Daedalus and his son, Icarus, were imprisoned in the Labyrinth. When it came time to escape, Daedalus built two pairs of beautiful wings from wax and feathers. He warned Icarus not to fly too low, so the feathers wouldn't get wet from the waves, and not too high, so the wax wouldn't melt from the heat of the sun. And so they left the island of Crete. But Icarus, caught in the joy of flight, flew too high, the wax melted, and he fell beneath the waves. A tragedy, but one born of stupidity rather than chance - a cautionary tale. She closes the book and holds it in her lap for a moment before reaching into her bag again and pulling out a sheet of parchment and a pencil. Biting her lower lip gently, she begins to sketch several drawings on the paper. One after another, they take form: tall angelic wings, smaller straight wings, delicately sloped wings. She pauses for a moment, her pencil poised above the paper, before circling the last set. She flips the parchment over and begins to sketch them in better detail. The initially-straight top ridge of the wings curves downwards and flows naturally into the outermost long feather. More long feathers make up the furthest portion of the wing from the center, giving way to medium-length feathers towards the base. Finally, she details the smaller feathers that cover the top part of the wing, then sets her pencil down to consider her sketch. Not bad. It'll be a challenge to hold this all together, but I'm a witch, no? And it wouldn't even be cheating; I'm certain Daedalus himself was a wizard, of sorts. And speaking of cheating through magic... She sets the book, sketch and pencil aside, plucking a blade of grass from the ground and holding it in her right hand, reaching into her bag with her left hand and drawing out her wand. She lays the tip on one end of the blade of grass, and slowly draws it along the severed plant, watching carefully. It slowly blackens to a dead, charcoal-like color as her wand passes and she frowns sharply, dropping the mis-transfigured blade of grass as if it had burned her fingertips. Then again...maybe I won't. |
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| Author: | Yendys [ Tue Nov 22, 2011 1:08 pm ] |
| Post subject: | Re: Este tem cheiro de nada... |
((Warning: this gets kind of gross. You've been warned, I don't want to hear any "Ewwww YENDYS I was EATING!" complaints.)) It is fully night, well past even the last moments of twilight, as a hooded and cloaked figure walks through the thick woods. The thick woolen fabric snags against the brush, but she continues on, using dark-gloved hands to yank it free. Under the cloak, her muggle-style jeans and dark jacket provide an odd contrast to the outer wizard-wear. Eventually, she comes to a stone wall in the woods, rising up many feet above her height but crumbling, eventually to be reduced to just a pile of rubble. She turns left and walks along the wall, running the fingers of her right hand lightly along the uneven stones, until she reaches a gap in the wall where there once had to have been a gate, or a door of some sort. Slipping through the gap, she turns and walks back along the wall in the direction that she had come until she reaches a corner. Bending down to retrieve her wand from inside her left boot, she flicks it in several directions, muttering the incantations to wards. A brilliant night for a campout. Once the wards are set, disappearing into the woods around her location without a trace, she slips down into the corner until she's sitting on the remnants of the stone floor. Flicking her wand in front of herself, she mutters, "Conjur Campfire." Some misshapen logs clatter to the stones, sparks landing and burning out all around them, and she grimaces, waving her wand again. "Evanesco. Damn it." Taking a deep breath, she runs her fingers back through her hair, not seeming to notice that she knocks her hood back as she does so. She raises her wand and flicks it, trying a second time. "Conjur Campfire." This time, a campfire appears which, while somewhat sorry in appearance, at least burns hot. She nods, satisfied, and sets her wand down on the stones immediately to her left. If it stays warm, I won't want to leave. Step one in avoiding anything particularly unpleasant. Reaching deep into her right boot, she draws a small knife, the blade wrapped securely in cloth, which she transfers to her left boot, leaving the handle sticking out and easy to grab. Reaching under her cloak, she unzips her jacket, revealing the t-shirt underneath, and reaches into the right side, pulling a grey cigarette box out of the inside pocket. Of course, step zero should probably be avoiding accepting "not tobacco" from Joki Wilde, but...oh well. Curiosity killed the cat, and no, I don't regret it. Opening the box, she removes one of the cigarettes from inside, holding it up to examine it in the light of the fire. The dark wrapper has white bones drawn on it, with a rotting head rendered in disturbing detail near one end. She wrinkles her nose at it, twirling the thin cylinder between her left thumb and forefinger. I don't know if I'll ever understand the glorification of death. Fear, of course, is obvious. Apathy, acceptable, if difficult to comprehend. Accepting - or even, at the right time, welcoming - death is only natural. But glorification...what purpose does that serve? We are born, we live, and we die. Spring leads to summer, which turns to autumn and, in the end, winter. It's only natural, but why should the final state be held in such high esteem? Though, I suppose there's almost nothing natural left about the way humans handle death, so perhaps worship of the state is the next step? She frowns at the thought and shakes her head, setting the cigarette down while she slips the box back into her jacket and zips it back up, pulling the cloak closer around herself to ward off the late-fall chill. Searching around herself on the ground, she finds a small stick and inserts the end into the fire until it's burning. She then uses it as a makeshift lighter, tossing it back into the fire once she's done. She tastes the smoke, making a bit of a face at the acrid taste. Why is it that nothing that leads to interesting experiences tastes good? She shifts her position to settle against the wall more comfortably, smoking the morbid cigarette experimentally, almost clinically. Several minutes pass as she looks out past the flames into the dark forest beyond, and eventually she holds up the half-burnt cigarette and examines it again, puzzled. This is oddly disappointing. It may not be tobacco, but it doesn't seem to be much of anything else either. Why even bother? Unless it's calculated to her tolerance, and she's skinnier than I am, so she needs less...that's probably it. More minutes pass, and eventually she tosses the butt into the fire, watching as the disgusting corpse head is consumed by the flames. She wraps her arms around her knees and waits some more, then shakes her head. What a let down. I should have stuck with something that I knew worked. Still, I suppose it could have been worse. There's a whole range of unpleasantness before you get to lethal. Settling back into the corner, she wiggles her shoulders until she gets comfortable and then looks up to the sky. It's clear tonight, the moon only a thin sliver against the backdrop of stars. Staring up at the stars peacefully, she waits out the night. * * * She is lying on her back, a nearly-unbearable stench in the air around her. She opens her eyes, seeing the lid of the box not even a foot from her face. She raises her hand to touch it, feeling the hard wood solid beneath her bare fingers. She pushes against the unyielding lid of the coffin, to no avail. Breathing heavily, she notices the scent again, a stomach-churning combination of the remnants of embalming chemicals and a sharper, natural decay. Trying not to breathe too much, she looks to her left, eyes widening as she sees the old woman, dressed in rich clothes, eyes closed for the final time, yet preserved perfectly. Looking to her right, she jerks backwards, jostling the woman's corpse, as she sees the house elf, skewered through his chest by a bloody spike. Decay has taken its course with the elf, and both the sight and the smell seem to press in on her even as the coffin seems to become smaller. She slams the heel of her left hand against the lid of the coffin and raises the right as well, knocking off a maggot that had crawled onto the sleeve of her black robes, pushing and pounding with both hands in an attempt to get out, but the lid remains solid. She fumbles at her side for her wand, but the pockets of her robes are empty. Where's my wand? Why don't I have it? Oh, I left it in the forest. I sat it down next to me, and I never picked it back up. How could I forget it? I'm going to die in here! She resumes her frantic pounding and shoving against the lid of the box, but nothing changes. She screams and shouts for someone - anyone - to help, but no sound comes out. As she feebly hits the lid of the box one last time, exhausted, a crack appears. Her eyes widening with hope, she scrabbles at the crack with her nails, ripping them and the tips of her fingers bloody in the attempt to get out. Something falls through the tiny crack, a thin shower of powder. It's not apparent until more falls onto her face what it is. Soil. No. She frantically tries to reverse the damage done, pressing upwards against the crack with both hands as if that will prevent the earth from reclaiming what should by all rights be its own. The lid of the coffin comes apart completely under her hands. No! The dirt caves in to the unnatural cavity, filling all the corners, isolating her from the corpses and pressing into her nose and mouth. She can no longer breathe, no longer move, suffocating under the weight of the earth. But this is what you wanted. * * * She jerks upright, gasping in air, her heart racing, staring around the forest. It is just before dawn, the first birds beginning to sing, and she is under the open air. Her left hand gropes at her side for her wand and, finding it, holds it tightly as she surveys the fire, burnt down to embers. No coffin. No dead rich woman. No murdered house elf. Alive. She takes a deep breath and shivers a bit in the chill. Be careful what you wish for, menina, it might not be what you actually want. |
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