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Post by jessamyn on Sept 2, 2010 16:17:05 GMT -5
 ×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××There's scars on the perfect.
It just depends on how deep you look.×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××
Her frantic heartbeat was the only betrayer that Jessamyn was upset. Of course, it was only traitorous to her. No one else could hear it's fast pace rhythm. All they could see was the cool, politely blank mask that passed for what others generally addressed as a face. It hid emotions that had been forbidden to her since she had been forced to step up as heir. Forced because Colin should have still be breathing, living, and supporting her. Forced because Tiponi couldn't be trusted to be strong enough to guide her daughter through the grief. Instead she had been lost to her own, floating around inside her mind. And now Jessamyn had to be the Ayers' heir. It was unfair to be removed from the training she had spend her first sixteen years on and step half taught into new dance steps. But to be truthful, it wasn't completely Tiponi's fault. Just most of it. That muggle had been stupid and thoughtless. Thus here she was over a year later, halfway through her second year in this school, still unused to this new life, this new culture. It wasn't fair!
The bitterness was overwhelming for her today. And in respite, she had decided to skip all her classes. Sure, she could have faked sick, laid in bed all day and read books. But that would have forced her to stay in her hated tower dormitory where the other girls turned up their noses at her still lingering American accent. So, instead, she sat in at one of the tables, transfiguring the boring, practical chair into a comfortable, deep, purple ball chair. Sliding into it, she sighed in relief and closed her eyes. With all the silence, Jessamyn was sure she'd easily slip into a trance. Instead, she fell asleep.
Calmly, serenely with a rapid heart beat, I stalked down the cold stone halls of Hogwarts. It was the deep, dark, dead of night and there were no other sound but the clip of my heels on the floor. So far, I had made it up two entire levels without being caught. There had been a near miss on the first floor as I walked up the stairs but then Peeves heard something else and zoomed away. If nothing else, I felt almost bored. The pictures and their inhabitants had been interesting at first. Until they had started whispering to each other and then some odd Knight had decided to keep me company for twenty minutes. I had to run into the girls bathroom for a while to escape him.
I didn't know what I was looking for, but there was something in these halls for me. I spotted a familiar face. Quickening my step to catch up. An odd fluttering started in my stomach and I bite down the urge to panic. Why was I scared to find what I was looking for? The person in front rounded a corner, disappear from view. My heart seemed to be leaping out of my chest. And as I turned the corner, I screamed. Blood, death, destruction.
Jessamyn jerked away. Fear still clouding her eyes. What was that about? Never before had she had such an odd dream. Taking a deep breath, she reached over randomly towards the bookshelf. Reading might be just the thing she needed anyway. Needless to say, her mood wasn't be deferred.
×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××There's beauty in the flawed.
It just depends on how deep you look.×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××Words: 625
Tagged: Michael Finnigan
Outfit: in the common room, dream
Muse: Firefly, Breaking Benjamin.
Notes: I tried something new, hope you don't mind.
Credits: Made by me, J Storm.
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Post by frostedfaerie on Sept 3, 2010 5:45:56 GMT -5
--no borders,, no nations--
.That's just the way I am. [/b][/i][/font][/size][/center] Michael made his way down to the Common Room from his dormitory. The last class that had just passed he'd had a spare, and the next one consisted of the same thing too, thankfully. Due to this he'd had a rare occasion to sleep in--the words were beautiful, he mused to himself as he descended the stairs to what he and the rest of the Ravenclaws considered their den/living room. Granted, he hadn't slept for very long, but still. It was something. Nothing too special was going on in the boy's life right now. Just living his life. He was generally content, hadn't had all that many of those sometimes violent mood swings he was prone to, lately. Mike often wasn't very in control of his emotions, unfortunate as that was. So when things went well, it was obviously a good thing. "Hey," he greeted one of his house mates, a Ravenclaw a year younger than him who had just transfered to this here school from the States; what was her name again, Jessamyn? Plopping down into one of the comfortable navy armchairs that filled the Common Room in abundance, he pulled out his pack of luckies, slipping one into his mouth. "You don't mind, do you?" He asked, glancing at the girl again. Only to do a double take. Michael wasn't really the nicest guy in the world (if she had said that yes, she did mind, he would still go ahead and puff his cigarette anyway), but concern began to nag at him as he got the impression that the sixth year was upset. And if he could do something to change that, to lift that fog, if indeed his assumption was correct, he would ! Hair tousled messily from having just awoken, bare chested, and in just his most comfortable black PJ pants, Mike approached her, deciding instead to start his smoke later so as not to blow it in her face. Tucking it behind his ear like a pencil. Even clad ( scantily clad, was more like it) as he was, he didn't feel the least bit uncomfortable. Perching himself on the arm of the purple chair she was currently seated in, perhaps invading her space but not doing anything to change that if this was so, he frowned. "Something wrong, America?"((OOC: I don't mind at all ! Annnd let's just say they've heard of each other because they are both Ravenclaws, naturally =])) |
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Post by jessamyn on Sept 3, 2010 17:38:25 GMT -5
×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××There's scars on the perfect.
It just depends on how deep you look.×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××
The words of the book flicked through her thoughts and made no sense. Jessamyn wasn't even sure which book she had grabbed. Turning the page, she tried to focus harder. During the full moon, on a clear night, one must go and pick the.... Yeah, what the heck was this even talking about, Jessamyn dropped the book to the floor and brought her knees up to her chest.
It wasn't that she missed the desert even that much anymore. She missed the friends there. Or the friends she used to have. Jessamyn couldn't remember being this lonely, this distant, this out of sync with everyone and everything. She felt like she was dying slowly inside. Maybe if she had given up on the grief and tried. Maybe if she hadn't acted like a spoiled brat. She sighed. Maybes didn't change anything. But now, she wasn't so certain she even wanted to be a Death Eater. Jessamyn didn't want to be a killer; she couldn't even say she hated all muggles still. Just that one.
A 'hey' from one of her housemates interrupted her thoughts and her eyes flicked over to him. And her mental card catalog pulled up his name - Finnigan, Michael, pureblood, 7th year. He sat over near enough for conversation, but not too close to be observed in her company. Pulling out a fag, Michael asked if it would bother her. Jessamyn shook her head and waved it off. Her's were in her purse, which was where? She had to admire him though, smoking in the tower. There had always been that soft spot for rebels.
The sense of a presence beside her, an unnoticed approach, jerked Jessamyn from her thoughts. The young man had perched himself up on her chair. She straightened up, looking him over. His fag stuck behind an ear, poking out through what had to be sleep tousled hair, and nothing on but some sleeping pants. Apparently someone else had been skipping class. At least he had gotten some sleep. Jessamyn brushed some hair behind her eye, listening to almost concern of his question.
"What's it matter?" She sighed and reached out over the table for her purse. Digging for her own cigarettes, she shrugged. "Just a bad dream, on a bad day is all. Things I can't change."
×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××There's beauty in the flawed.
It just depends on how deep you look.×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××Words: 426
Tagged: Michael Finnigan
Outfit: in the common room
Muse: If I Die Young, The Band Perry.
Notes: Yes, that would make sense.
Credits: Made by me, J Storm.
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Post by frostedfaerie on Sept 5, 2010 6:49:55 GMT -5
--no borders,, no nations--
.That's just the way I am. [/b][/i][/font][/size][/center] Michael shrugged over what she said. It was easy to overlook ones own feelings--though just as easy not to, to become obsessed and controlled by them. Such could at times be said for himself. And when it was difficult, or nearly impossible to change your circumstances, that sort of pain in the arse was easy to give up on trying to improve, too. The Ravenclaw may have just woken up, but he was still inquisitive in this sort of thing. Seeing her rummage and come up with her own pack of ciggies, Mike gave a little happy smile. So he'd be allowed a nicotine fix, after all. In response to her half cynical, morose sounding question; "You tell me. I guess we are all just nobodies when it comes to the big picture, but that's a matter of opinion. Does it matter to you?" Then rolling his cigarette around in his hands, waiting for her to produce a light. Using ones wand worked just as well, but if Jessamyn had matches or something, was preferred. The strike and produced cigarette convenience of kerosene soaked matches catching a flame, making the air around him smell of sulfur, was one of Michael's favourite things. "So the badness of the dream's lingering, then," he stated, not so much a question. He couldn't think of any other reason that the girl's day could be so bad when it was still just morning time. There were a lot of things Michael wished he could, but couldn't, change. It wasn't a nice feeling to have, an unpleasant knowledge to know. After realizing this, a person felt limited, in that way useless. Or at least, that was the not being in control made Mike feel. You'd think he'd be used to it by now, with his feelings so often all over the place and so difficult to suppress, but that wasn't the case. Unfortunately just another thing he, as well as other people apparently, couldn't change. |
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