Post by chameil on Jan 16, 2007 17:21:14 GMT -5
Scurrying down the grand staircase came a young lady of presence. Chameil Alice Longbottom, Ali for short. Elegance, grace, charm… not exactly the words one might pick out to describe said girl. Effortless, intelligent and genuine however, certainly came to mind. A fine example of 17-year-old girl, somewhat in the minority as it were. As an infant she had often been referred to as ‘quiet’ and presently adults had moved onto the universally known dodging of the truth term; ‘subtle’. She wasn’t quiet nor was she subtle at least she didn’t think she was. To a close friend or family member it was true, she wasn’t quiet or subtle, yet she found it impossible to talk to others without that lack of self-confidence weeding its way in.
Her mousy-brown, undulating hair cascaded down upon her petite shoulders; the insipid monotone colour living up to her readily established reputation. She had some beautiful looks on her, yet they were at present; hidden behind the frown which she often carried as she was now. She was under a tremendous amount of pressure. Yes. Stress and pressure, that was all she needed especially with all those death eaters running a mock of the school. What was the point?
Running at full pelt she reached the bottom of the staircase, the first floor corridor greeting her with a fresh and gentle breeze softly flowing up from the ground floor below. Running. But why? Quite simple really; two revolting words that had over time, caused her and her family so much pain. Death eaters. They were there once again paroling the corridor above and just generally causing havoc all over the school. She couldn’t stand them or anything to do with them, it made her cry just to think about how her grandparents had been treated by them and the whole idea of them. Yes she knew, she heard the stories; every truth and every detail was held so profoundly within her mind that she was convinced she’d never forget those evils no matter how powerful an obliviate curse she might endure.
Only moments before she had had the misfortunate of taking a turn into one of the besieged corridors and been hit with glares, glowers, smirks and sneers so intimidating that they made her want to die. Right there. Die on the spot. A sickly sensation in her stomach and a throbbing heart in her breast she left with as much vigour and dignity as she could muster; running away. Feeling her eyes gradually filling with tears as she ran, she passed a second year almost knocking her off of her feet as she passed. They were everywhere, what was she to do, there was nothing she could do. A tear trickling down her rosy cheek she sobbed silently continuing on down the first floor corridor.
This was most unfortunate she thought to herself, staying as calm as was humanly possible. Although she knew the death eaters would not be coming after her she couldn’t tolerate excessively showing her emotions and needed some time to gather her thoughts and gain some composure. This in mind she rushed into a nearby closet just down the first floor corridor, a few heads turning as she dashed past. She could hear the chatter of students passing by her closet and the tinny sound of the pipes in the wall behind her and was satisfied with the newly found cover of the closet. She sat silently for several minutes. After all it was not as if she had anything much better to do.
“Ah well.”
She sighed after a lot of persistent thought and sat herself down. It was a reasonably large closet, considering both its location and purpose. Prodding a small wooden object that was protruding from the wall to her left, she began to sing, fairly quietly, to herself. It was a peculiar song of her own creation… most of them were. This was one of her particular favourites as it had been in her memory from the age of eight or nine when she had been forced to play some sort of experimental game one of her siblings had invented. The context of which she’d never remember, but it had sentimental value so she hummed it regularly as it offered the familiar comforts of home.
“Delicious and nutritious that’s the way we like our food.
If you do not give it me, I’d find that rather rude.
Delicious and nutritious that is why I must conclude.
If not delicious or nutritious then we would be rather screwed.”
The tune was quite catchy, to conclude the positive remarks about her oh-so inventive composition. It really wasn’t hard to tell why several people found her rather… distant, even as a child. Alas there were some things keeping her sane, her family and her grades were the chief contribution to this and it might develop quite a concern if either were to falter perhaps even in the slightest. Of course not knowing whether she would ever see her mother or father again only added to her heartache and presently she sat silently, her knees tucked up to her breast and her head left to flop, eyes shut.
Singing and humming kept her content… for now. It was something she was often told she was good at but she never took it seriously. She didn’t take anything much very seriously, not just recently. She went to school to learn and she did so, quite successfully. Yet feeling the need to apply her academic achievements never even occurred to her. She knew she was bright; her reading ability soared above the Gryffindor population at least. Nothing to live for; she would have to be at ease with her new half-life; she was not yet ready to die.
So there she sat. In her closet, singing away to herself, all the while tears trickling down her cheeks, a contented smile carved into her delicate features.
[/center]Her mousy-brown, undulating hair cascaded down upon her petite shoulders; the insipid monotone colour living up to her readily established reputation. She had some beautiful looks on her, yet they were at present; hidden behind the frown which she often carried as she was now. She was under a tremendous amount of pressure. Yes. Stress and pressure, that was all she needed especially with all those death eaters running a mock of the school. What was the point?
Running at full pelt she reached the bottom of the staircase, the first floor corridor greeting her with a fresh and gentle breeze softly flowing up from the ground floor below. Running. But why? Quite simple really; two revolting words that had over time, caused her and her family so much pain. Death eaters. They were there once again paroling the corridor above and just generally causing havoc all over the school. She couldn’t stand them or anything to do with them, it made her cry just to think about how her grandparents had been treated by them and the whole idea of them. Yes she knew, she heard the stories; every truth and every detail was held so profoundly within her mind that she was convinced she’d never forget those evils no matter how powerful an obliviate curse she might endure.
Only moments before she had had the misfortunate of taking a turn into one of the besieged corridors and been hit with glares, glowers, smirks and sneers so intimidating that they made her want to die. Right there. Die on the spot. A sickly sensation in her stomach and a throbbing heart in her breast she left with as much vigour and dignity as she could muster; running away. Feeling her eyes gradually filling with tears as she ran, she passed a second year almost knocking her off of her feet as she passed. They were everywhere, what was she to do, there was nothing she could do. A tear trickling down her rosy cheek she sobbed silently continuing on down the first floor corridor.
This was most unfortunate she thought to herself, staying as calm as was humanly possible. Although she knew the death eaters would not be coming after her she couldn’t tolerate excessively showing her emotions and needed some time to gather her thoughts and gain some composure. This in mind she rushed into a nearby closet just down the first floor corridor, a few heads turning as she dashed past. She could hear the chatter of students passing by her closet and the tinny sound of the pipes in the wall behind her and was satisfied with the newly found cover of the closet. She sat silently for several minutes. After all it was not as if she had anything much better to do.
“Ah well.”
She sighed after a lot of persistent thought and sat herself down. It was a reasonably large closet, considering both its location and purpose. Prodding a small wooden object that was protruding from the wall to her left, she began to sing, fairly quietly, to herself. It was a peculiar song of her own creation… most of them were. This was one of her particular favourites as it had been in her memory from the age of eight or nine when she had been forced to play some sort of experimental game one of her siblings had invented. The context of which she’d never remember, but it had sentimental value so she hummed it regularly as it offered the familiar comforts of home.
“Delicious and nutritious that’s the way we like our food.
If you do not give it me, I’d find that rather rude.
Delicious and nutritious that is why I must conclude.
If not delicious or nutritious then we would be rather screwed.”
The tune was quite catchy, to conclude the positive remarks about her oh-so inventive composition. It really wasn’t hard to tell why several people found her rather… distant, even as a child. Alas there were some things keeping her sane, her family and her grades were the chief contribution to this and it might develop quite a concern if either were to falter perhaps even in the slightest. Of course not knowing whether she would ever see her mother or father again only added to her heartache and presently she sat silently, her knees tucked up to her breast and her head left to flop, eyes shut.
Singing and humming kept her content… for now. It was something she was often told she was good at but she never took it seriously. She didn’t take anything much very seriously, not just recently. She went to school to learn and she did so, quite successfully. Yet feeling the need to apply her academic achievements never even occurred to her. She knew she was bright; her reading ability soared above the Gryffindor population at least. Nothing to live for; she would have to be at ease with her new half-life; she was not yet ready to die.
So there she sat. In her closet, singing away to herself, all the while tears trickling down her cheeks, a contented smile carved into her delicate features.