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Post by ray2 on Jan 30, 2010 14:44:50 GMT -5
SCREW THIS
Her attitude wasn't so acceptable nowadays. She would never be sober anymore, and she would always have a cigarette hanging from her lip. With no sleep, Juliette was was looking quite like a train wreck, but she hid her darkened eyes behind Aviator sunglasses, a pair that she'd 'borrowed' from a passing muggle in the streets of London. She had taken to wearing darker colors. And she was losing some of the skills she'd developed when she was younger, more healthier, and happier. She hardly ever used nagic anymore, and she never had her wand with her. Every day, she was turning into a muggle. She'd even chose to wear muggle attire. A white tank top, tight jeans and a leather jacket, hardly the look of a witch.
Now, she sat alone at the bar of the Three Broomsticks. She had no drink infront of her, but had plenty of empty glasses around her. She had her head bowed over the bar, and had a cigarette in her hand. She rubbed her eyes behind her glasses, feeling them slip from her nose. She sighed and shoved them back, pushing them against her face. It nipped, but she only released more air.
It was late. Really late. Infact, Juliette didn't even know what day it was. All she registered was the fact that it was dark outside, and the bar was almost deserted, apart from a drunken old man in the corner, looking too pleased for his age, and the barman, who frequently glanced at Juliette, with a skeptical look. Juliette saw him and gave a rather rude hand gesture before sitting up, and placing her cigarette back in her mouth.
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Post by marcus on Jan 30, 2010 15:03:21 GMT -5
It was late. Almost 2 in the morning if you want to get technical, but the boy that walked down the stone cobbled streets didn't care. All he knew as that he needed a drink. A hand reached out from his coat pocket and ran its pale fingers through his already messy, jet black hair. A surge of some kind of relief came over him, though it didn't last very long. Sure, Marcus' life was finally starting to take a turn and get back on track. He had found his mother's killer and slaughtered him in his own home. His father had died two weeks ago before his own wand, and he was glad, happy. He had a girlfriend, friends, a life ahead of him, but it all didn't seem right. There was something still missing, something his father had said, that caused him to venture out on these late night trips into Hogsmeade.
"I am only the beginning, son."
The last words that fell from his father's mouth now hung about him as he opened the door to the Three Broomsticks, for sure haunting him for the rest of his life. He stepped into the bar, taking off his black coat. It was dead as usual. The drunken fool sat in the same booth he had been sitting in for the past month since Marcus had been coming down here. The fool passed him a smile and Marcus turned his head, now making his way to the bar.
He sat down on a stool and watched as the bartender came over to him. "Almost thought you wouldn't show." The old man said and Marcus gave a chuckled and nodded a bit, at loss for words. The old man turned and sat down before him a glass and a bottle of firewhiskey then went back to cleaning glasses with the bar mop. Marcus gave a sigh as he poured the first glass, watching as the liquid fill the glass. He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip, giving a slight sigh of relief.
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