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Post by Dylan Cooper on May 6, 2009 0:01:00 GMT -5
Emerging from the chilly hall beyond the common room door, Dylan shook the rain out of his slightly longer hair and trudged up to his dormitory, his broomstick slung over one shoulder. A warming shower and a set of clean, dry clothes later, he finally re-entered the circular room beneath the set of dormitory stairs and crossed over to the fire, hoping to see his favoured seat vacant, ready and waiting for him. Alas, life isn't perfect, and he settled instead on an already occupied couch relatively close to the hearth.
He offered up a small, charming smile to Amy and swiveled himself so that he was facing her better. For his efforts he received a small whisper into his ear that made his smile rise. Pulling away to regard her better, he gave a small laugh, followed by a soft kiss, and the entire action was rounded off as his hand slipped into hers. As his smile remained, he leant back onto the nicely plump backing of the royal blue couch with small bronze diagonal stripes, matching the exact Ravenclaw colours, and gave a small content sigh.
It was so much nicer to be in a well-lit, warm tower room after having experienced the wind and rain that could easily be seen out of the cold blue windows. The noises eminating from the other occupants of the room, whether conversing voices, the ruffling of parchment, the scratching of a quill, or explosions caused by the two second-years playing Exploding Snap, helped to ease some of the tension out of his muscles as he relaxed on the couch. He was so absorbed in the happenings around him, in fact, that it was a small surprise to notice that Amy had somehow entangled herself with him. Giving a small smile to the face looking up at him, he pulled her slightly closer.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 6, 2009 1:23:27 GMT -5
D'rorah needed somewhere to get away from her mind and herself. She couldn't stand another minute in her room. There were constant interruptions from the other girls in her year, who thought her even more odd than usual after her extended stay in her bed as she had nursed a broken heart. The library was her usual standby, but it seemed to be busier than usual of late with people studying for exams or just studying in general. She decided, after a bit of deliberation, to search out a spot in the common room. At least there she could be close to a fire, and perhaps a bit of warmth. Warmth seemed to be more and more difficult to come by these days... every passing day it seemed her fingers felt colder. She was beginning to wonder if the darkness that had tried so many times to claim her was finally having its way.
Only time would tell. So, heavy satchel in tow and plenty of quills and a new stack of research notebooks, she set off from her dormitory for the Ravenclaw common room. She was immediately drawn to a space near the fire. Unfortunately, there were no tables to be had, but she could manage well enough with some hovering charms and a bit of careful balancing. She found a heavy wingback chair as close to the fireplace as she could manage and spent several minutes meticulously arranging herself so that she could research without inhibition.
She was just placing her quill to parchment to record her first fragment of translation when a sound and movement caught her attention from the corner of her eye. She glanced over towards the couch and felt the color drain from her already colorless face as she saw Dylan entangled with another female Ravenclaw student... very cozy and close. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment. Apparently the rumors of his having taken up with a new girlfriend were true. She forced her eyes back to her work and debated leaving and finding anywhere else to stay. But the warmth of the fire strengthened her resolve. This was her common room just as much as it was Dylan's and she would not be chased away from it tonight! She pursed her lips and set her jaw, biting the inside of her cheek to take her attention away from the couple on the couch. She had to find some way to concentrate on her research. With a slow, deep breath, she renewed her grip on her quill and set herself to writing, trying to find her usual solace in the quiet scratching of the quill against the sheaves of her notebook and the rhythm of the language she was translating in her head.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on May 6, 2009 3:30:37 GMT -5
After snuggling up rather cozily so close to the fire, he found his attention slipping away once again and focusing on the smallest of things. For the last two minutes he had been steadily watching a game of chess between a third and fourth year on the table right beside the lush blue couch on which he found himself. Gradually, however, his mind slipped away once more, searching for something new to focus on. As they escaped the warm and partially blinding fire crackling beneath the hearth, they came across D'rorah Philosophy seated around some rather precariously stacked parchment and books.
As usual, her hand was scrawling across some parchment, and her head was down, focused onto her work. Casting a small glance down to the sixth year in his arms, who a second before had been gazing absently into the fire just as he himself had done, he was met with a small kiss. Taken slightly by surprise but enjoying it nonetheless, he returned the kiss quite a bit more fully than he would have if D'rorah had not been seated only a few metres away. Casting off a small, glowing laugh that accompanied her own, Dylan's fingers entwined once more with hers.
"I'd better get that essay for Potions done," he whispered quietly into her ear, moving to stand and effectively disentangling himself from her entirely, and somewhat regrettably. Traipsing back up the stairs to the fifth year boys dormitory, he withdrew his already half a foot long essay, a quill and some ink, as well as his textbook, and meandered back down the stairwell. Finding the couch empty and figuring Amy must have gone up to get some work of her own, he settled back down comfortably and began to scratch in his next paragraph; this one focused on what effect the order of components added had on the potion in question in it's entirety. His textbook lay unopened, and was mainly there just in case anyway - most of the information required was already in his head and just needed to be jotted down.
After another minute, Amy wound her way back down her own set of stairs, her own Charms work in hand. Offering a more than friendly smile as she seated herself next to him, one hand slipped around her waist and he kissed her slowly on the cheek, making his way through the mass of pretty blonde curls. To go with the strawberry blonde hair, she had a pair of nicely shaped, glorious blue eyes that rounded off a pleasant looking face. Her figure was one of small proportions, but she never held the image of looking malnourished or uncared for, and he rather liked that about her. Offering another quiet kiss, this time to the lips, he settled back and continued the scratching of his quill.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 6, 2009 4:35:44 GMT -5
D'rorah really was doing her best to close everything else out of her mind. She was succeeding wonderfully, managing to concentrate fully on her work, until the sounds of kissing and laughter reached her ears. Unwilling to look up to witness the disgusting spectacle that was no doubt being augmented for her benefit, she concentrated hard on her research, taking her ire out on her quill. The sound of its scratching became somewhat strained as it was pressed more vehemently against her parchment. She breathed a sigh of relief that was nearly audible as the two Ravenclaws disentangled themselves from one another, feeling able to more fully concentrate as first Dylan, then Amy departed.
She took a moment to stretch her fingers out, unwrapping them from their death grip on her poor, abused quill. She flexed her hands slowly and breathed deeply. She was strong, she had faced far more horrible things than this, certainly. But then, Dylan had been the first person she had ever loved romantically, and having been so callously tossed away was painful, at best. But then, she had convinced herself that she had never deserved him in the first place. And certainly, he would be safer without her around... she seemed to attract calamity wherever she went.
Feeling somewhat less tense, she returned her attention fully to her research. It was liberating to be able to work and to feel the deathly chill recede slightly from her frame. She had a thought that perhaps she would spend more time in this spot... but then, it wouldn't work at all if Dylan would be there with Amy. She would have far too hard a time concentrating.
She was just going at a good clip when she saw Dylan return from the corner of her eye. She bit her lower lip, admonishing herself silently to leave him be. No good could possibly come from talking to him... not after the last time he had spoken to... or rather yelled at, her. Oh well, at least he was alone this time. She set her jaw and continued with her writing, only to find her concentration interrupted once again by Amy's return. She could see the flash of firelight reflected on Amy's curls as Dylan's hand found its way through them. But it was the last kiss that totally shattered her concentration, sending the books she had so carefully positioned around her with hovering charms smashing to the floor all around her. One scroll of parchment, lighter than all the rest bounced and skittered along the stone floor, rolling to the fireplace.
[blue]"No![/blue] she cried out, diving for the piece just as it reached the fire grate. She retrieved the piece and used an aguamente to put out the flames that had caught on it. [blue]"Damn..."[/blue] she swore quietly, surveying the damage. Like most of the texts she worked with, this wasn't something that could be replaced, another copy wouldn't be found in any bookstore. She bit her lip, fighting to keep her overwrought emotions under control. Dylan's newfound happiness, the partial destruction of an irreplaceable text. She sat in front of the firegrate, unwilling to move and have to face the sight of Dylan and Amy wrapped around one another on the couch yet again until she felt more firmly in control of herself. In spite of her best efforts, a tear slipped from her eye and down her cheek, leaving a sparkling trail in the firelight. [blue]I will not do this here, not now. Absolutely NOT, D'rorah,[/blue], she thought to herself silently, mentally slapping herself to get it together.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on May 7, 2009 1:20:41 GMT -5
Pulling back from the kiss suddenly, he turned to watch the small calamity issuing from Philosophy, one eyebrow raised. Her precarious stacks had fallen, crumbling to the ground and spreading themselves across the large, lush rug beneath her chair. One particularly troublesome one had headed for the fireplace, causing a large cry to be emitted from the other prefect. A small, unfriendly grin rising to his normally kind features, he gave a small snort of laughter as she put out the flames caught onto the book. Amy did not come out with any scorning laughter, but she did not move to help the seventh year, either, remaining instead wrapped cozily inside one arm.
At this point in time, he could imagine very well the thoughts that might be running through D'rorah's mind. Most people found her difficult to figure out, but if you knew what to look for, Dylan found that she could be read like a book. Much like the translation work she surrounded herself with, all you needed to do was read that particular language, and a whole new world was opened up to you. Not caring in the slightest if she was upset that one of her precious texts had been damaged, he didn't even bother to produce another vicious look or comment. She was, quite frankly, not worth the effort, sitting pathetically as she was, her books scattered about her and the partially burnt one resting in her hand.
The last time they had met in this room he was sure she had come out worse off. Smiling slightly at the memory, though it was not a pleasant smile, he remembered the ring she had given back to him and knew that what had been anger at the time had now transferred into only further contempt for her. The ring in question, he thought, had been thrown into his trunk and neglected ever since. He couldn't be too positive, however. His memory wasn't what it had once been; he really needed to protect his head a lot more.
Turning back to his essay, he noted that he had nearly gone over his required two rolls of parchment, and wondered if Professor Sparrow would mind his continuously over-length homework assignments. His attention had been momentarily drawn, and he had to re-read the last few sentences to get the gist of where he was again; finally, he dipped his quill into his inkwell and placed it back on the parchment, where it began running across, trying to catch up with his thoughts.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 7, 2009 2:05:44 GMT -5
D'rorah had heard Dylan's snort of vicious laughter, but it hadn't registered at the time. Her only thought had been to save the text. However, as she sat there re-gathering herself, she replayed the scene in her head, wishing she had reacted differently, done anything that might have prevented the partial burning of the text in her hand. And that was when her mind also replayed the laughter for her. She slowly turned to regard Dylan as he sat on the couch, looking quite pleased with himself as he scratched away at something as trivial as homework. It was that uncaring attitude that caused something to snap within her. On top of her brokenheartedness, she felt rage at Dylan's apparent cruelty. She didn't know Amy, and figured she was probably a nice enough girl, but at the moment all she could imagine were the myriad ways she could torture the poor girl to death. Though her facial features were stony and emotionless, her eyes burned a heartbroken anger as she turned to regard Dylan.
[blue]"You were closer. You could have helped,"[/blue] she accused him calmly. [blue]"You know how important these texts are. At one time, you promised to assist with their translation, though I can see how very little promises mean to you."[/blue] She turned her gaze to Amy next and shook her head, wanting to warn the girl away from having her own heart broken, but not feeling like she was worth the trouble. She clenched her jaw and rose slowly, thinking it best to extricate herself from the situation before she said something she might later regret. She turned to head back to her chair, but was unable to prevent one last utterance from passing her lips. [blue]"Cad."[/blue] It was unmistakably directed at Dylan and said in a way that was very matter-of-fact. She could feel tears beginning to well up behind her eyes and wanted to gather her things and escape before they could make themselves known.
Carefully, but with haste, she began gathering her other texts, carefully smoothing any pages that had been wrinkled as they had fallen to the floor.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on May 7, 2009 4:00:40 GMT -5
He raised his eyes slowly from the parchment before him; D'rorah was clearly speaking to him. A small fire lit in his eyes as she engaged him, and he was clearly ready for a fight. The edges of his mouth formed into a cruel smile as her attention turned to Amy. At her last, seemingly passing insult, he gave a small laugh that ended quite abruptly and was followed by a tense silence. "And what would you know of promises, exactly?" he questioned quietly, his voice clearly displaying what contempt he felt for her. "You never wanted anything of me but to use me, to twist me around until you were satisfied - your promises to me meant nothing. Most people would blame issues like that on your past; a pathetic little orphan with nothing but those hideous scars and a traumatised mind. But not me; I think it's all to do with genetics. Something wrong with the parents, something wrong with the offspring." He spoke carelessly, as if the entire room was not full of Ravenclaws of all ages.
"I always did feel sorry for you, Philosophy, but then I realised that you weren't being a callous b*tch on purpose, you just had no social skills after being attacked like that; being left deformed and minus one very important thing." His voice was still a menacing quiet, and his eyes glinted maliciously as he spoke those last few words; she knew exactly what he was referring to. He had raised himself off of the couch now, his essay and quill lying quite forgotten at his feet, and the firelight lit up his disgusted features. "All you do is hide from the world, and no wonder." With a flick of his wand, newly produced from within his robes, her sleeves were ripped from the shoulder and fell to the floor, revealing the scarred skin beneath.
With a contemptuous glance, he turned away from the sight. "I think I speak for the rest of the common room if I ask you to leave, too; no-one wants to vomit their food back up," he finished maliciously, re-taking his seat and entangling himself comfortably back into Amy's embrace. A moment later, one might never have known that he'd left his seat in the first place. He went right back to ignoring the very existance of the woman standing before him.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 7, 2009 7:43:41 GMT -5
D'rorah looked up from gathering her texts as Dylan began to address her. Every word cut deeply, like a knife that was violently twisted after delivering an already fatal blow. She fought to keep herself together throughout his tirade, knowing full well from the dead silence in the room that absolutely everyone present had stopped whatever they might be doing to listen. She closed her eyes against the flood of emotions that ravaged her as he publicly shamed both her integrity and her parents.
She swallowed back tears as Dylan went on to speak of her lack of social skills. She was in such a state of shock at this point that she couldn't even fight back. And even if she'd felt like it, Dylan was ripping what heart she might have had for battle to tiny little pieces. The "one very important thing" stuck in her mind especially. She'd gone to great lengths to keep her past a secret here at Hogwarts. She didn't want the reputation of having been the tragic orphan whose parents had been killed. And she certainly didn't want anyone knowing what she had endured after their deaths. But here it was, all being thrown rudely into the light of day for every single one of their housemates to see.
She tried to block it all out, turning her attention back to gathering her books so she could reserve what small amount of dignity she had left and make a graceful exit. However, her body refused to obey her commands. Had it been someone, anyone else, she would have shown him just how dangerous it was to purposefully stir her ire. Had it been anyone but Dylan, the words would have earned the speaker a full trip to see D'rorah's darker side, the side that had studied the Dark Arts to exhaustion while working to develop defensive spells, the part that had cast Unforgivable Curses in the name of academia. Alas, it was Dylan Cooper... and alas, he was supposedly her ally. She couldn't harm him; it would be far too detrimental to the Lightfighters to have any further turmoil.
She was so caught up in her thinking that she never saw him go for his wand, never had a chance to even consider blocking his spell. And so, as her sleeves were crudely ripped away from her robes, she stook in shock for several moments. After spending so much time carefully altering her robes and having others tailor made to her typical, stiffly formal style, here was her scarred, deformed skin laid open to public view. Her survival instincts kicked in as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Years of training to hold her emotions tightly in check in order to control her telepathic abilities took over, and her face became a blank mask of stony calm as everything retreated to her own internal barriers. A mixture of murderous rage, shame, betrayal, and agony was buried so deeply inside her that it could not possibly get out.
And so, picking up her last text and leaving her sleeves discarded on the floor, D'rorah gathered her books in her arms, carefully straightened again, and turned to exit the common room, holding her head aloft as befitted a Philosophy. Her eyes saw nothing but the door she sought. She didn't head for her dormitory. She needed to get out of the school, away from all of these people and their whispers and their eyes. She made her way out into the corridor, not caring who might see her. Rumors of what had happened would be all over the school within hours anyway, there was nothing to be done to contain that damage. Her eyes began to slowly darken to black as she felt herself separate more from her emotions. Nonetheless, she maintained her calm and did not slow her steps or deviate from her path as she opened the door and exited the common room.
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Kerridon Paradox
Ravenclaw
[blue]6th Year Ravenclaw[/blue]
One loss locked me in the heart of misery... but you had the key to set me free
Posts: 317
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Post by Kerridon Paradox on May 7, 2009 9:39:51 GMT -5
Kerridon had been studying in the library for quite some time now, and would have continued doing so for a long time yet had not a group of noisy 5th years come in and started quizzing each other on Charms OWL work at the table just across from where he was sitting. While he probably could have concentrated despite that, these translations he was doing were of a particularly finicky nature and just one change in tense or verb clause could alter the entire meaning. It was a text he had come across while visiting his mother’s home – his home, now – concerning the history of powers of the Shadow Warriors and Elemental Masters. There was some interesting information on some sort of transferral of powers that he was trying to deduce, but it was all very vague; it seemed the author hadn’t really known much about it but was copying from another account.
But now, unable to put his entire focus on the text, he began to clear up his things and head out of the library and up the stairs towards the common room. Perhaps he could continue this in his dormitory, if no one else was in there – he didn’t want anyone else asking what he was doing. The chances of anyone being able to translate Hebrew phrases seemed slim, but he was in Ravenclaw, after all.
As he entered the common room, Kerridon was not at all prepared for the silence that met him. The place was never this quiet... the source of it was quickly found as he heard Dylan’s voice... calling someone a bitch. That seemed a little out of character... especially when he saw who it was being aimed at. D’rorah was stood there, apparently frozen and not fighting back as the boy who supposedly loved her laid into her completely, exposing the past she had tried to very hard to hide from everyone. A moment later, he had produced his wand and had ripped the sleeves off her robes, exposing the multitude of scars given to her by Dark Phoenix and, among others, his own father. He could hear the slight murmur of shock that went round the common room’s occupants and a scowl twisted his face... did they have to make this worse by turning it into a spectacle?
She was moving, and he quickly took a sidestep so that her way out of the common room was open. The moment the door swung shut, an excited buzz of voices began, all discussing the events that had just taken place and the new knowledge about their house prefect’s past. Instead of following straight away, Kerridon turned to glance over at Dylan, who had returned to his seat with that other girl he had been seeing, Amy, with his head and shoulders visible over the top of the sofa.
With a small flick of one hand and a few murmured words, two invisible spells were heading in the younger boy’s direction. One should hit him squarely in the back of the head with quite some force, possibly even forcing him off the seat if it hit the right spot. The other went over the pair’s heads and into the fire, forcing it to spark up violently and flare quite a distance out of the grate. If he was very lucky, the fire and the Ravenclaw would collide, but he didn’t stay to watch and instead turned and left the common room after D’rorah.
Glancing both ways up and down the corridor, he quickly caught sight of her and set out after her, jogging to catch up. [blue]”D’rorah,”[/blue] he called, hoping that she would stop when she heard and not just ignore him. With no one else in the corridor, he felt okay with reaching out a hand and murmuring another spell, this time one that reached for the ends of D’rorah’s torn sleeves and began to increase the amount of thread in them, stitching downwards very quickly so that before long they were back to their normal length. The ends weren’t exactly perfect, looking quite frayed, but at least her scarred arms were covered up. Just because Ravenclaw had seen, that didn’t make it okay for the rest of the school to gawp at her.
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Post by Dylan Cooper on May 7, 2009 18:27:04 GMT -5
He was slightly surprised that she didn't retaliate, didn't even try to fight back; but then again, she claimed that he had always been her weak spot. To him, it was just D'rorah Philosophy losing hold of her plaything, of the one person above all she had tried to manipulate with her stories and her actions. His eyes didn't bother to follow her progress as she left the common room, and consequently he didn't see Kerridon at all. If he had, he wouldn't have seen a wand anyway, the normal tell-tale of a spell being cast; all he might have viewed was a small muttering and an impatient hand movement.
It was a surprise, therefore, when he felt a strong force hit him squarely in the back of the head. It send his head forward with the momentum, and his body ungracefully followed. Amy had certainly disentangled herself from him rather quickly at that point; clearly, she would not be dragged down with him for his words. His jaw clenching and his eyes furious, he made to rise and found instead that his attention was diverted by the set of flames surrounding his hands and face. Giving a small yell, he didn't even notice that flames had sprung up all over one of the many lush rugs before the fireplace, dancing at the feet of those occupying the closest chairs.
Hastily and clumsily finding his feet, he painfully sought his wand and finally managed a quick mutterance of "Aguamenti," before turning the spell on his other hand, too. Slipping the wand back into his robes, he surveyed the damage to his hands before looking up, looking around the common room for guilty eyes. No-one was particularly fond of D'rorah, that he could tell, and he gave up, muttering a quick few words to Amy before departing the common room and heading for the hospital wing. He was no Healer, afterall, and as he slipped beyond the entranceway a few students were seen to be putting out the mini fires with their own wands.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 7, 2009 19:13:00 GMT -5
D'rorah felt her shoulders sag slightly as the door to the common room closed behind her. She refused to pause, however, and re-stiffened her posture to continue her way down the hall. The stairs were nearly in sight when she heard someone call her name, penetrating through the wall she had put around herself. She paused and turned to regard Kerridon with dead eyes, her emotions still locked safely inside of her. Her gaze moved to her arms as sleeves reappeared to replace the ones she had left behind on the common room floor. Now that she had lost her forward momentum, she found herself riveted in place, unable to summon the will to move. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, so she closed her lips again.
Surely, this was hell. She had died months ago while the Mage had been torturing her and was now enduring some eternal punishment for her various sins. That was the only reasonable answer. As she silently watched Kerridon approach her, she felt her emotions stir within her again, seeking release. She had to get out of the castle before that happened. The psychic energy would likely echo within the stone walls of the castle and drive everyone around her mad. But then, if she was really dead and this was her punishment, what would she care? Suddenly, she knew what drove the Shadow Warriors who had defected in the past into the ranks of Dark Phoenix. It had been this same sort of madness that had made reality seem impossible, unreal, and therefore, unimportant.
[blue]"Please, do not try to stop me, Mister Paradox. I cannot remain here. It would not be safe."[/blue] Her voice was strained as her emotions looked for a release, anyway to get out. She swallowed thickly, as though they could be held back like a meal bound for regurgitation. A tear slipped from the corners of each of her eyes, which probably looked odd when placed on the stony mask of non-emotion. She took a deep breath and found herself trying hard not to hyperventilate as her heart stuttered in protest at the callous way it had been treated. She was in no state to leave the castle, but she could not stay... she did not have her swords with her, she had nothing but the armful of texts. She looked down at them, suddenly feeling as though she held the entire weight of the world in her arms and wanting nothing more than to set them aside. She had to endure this. She couldn't lose her control over herself and do something that might end up having her expelled from Hogwarts or sent to Azkaban... the Lightfighters needed her knowledge, whether some of them wanted to accept it or not. The truth of the matter was that she had survived the longest of any of them, had battled more Shadows and darkness from the Shadow Realm. That was precisely why the Mage would want her gone...
She made a slight strangled sound as she felt the walls around her emotions begin to crumble. No longer concerned about dignity or decorum, she broke into a run, heading down the stairs as quickly as her legs could carry her. Mental stones and blocks crumbled and fell away with every step so that she could not stop. She paid no attention to staring eyes or whether anyone followed her or not. All she could think of was to get out of the school before her mind got out of her control.
She managed to make it through a door and into the courtyard, throwing the heavy wooden door violently open as she crashed through it. It would leave a bruise, but she had no thought for such things at the moment. She continued running, flying across the lawn as though she were being pursued by the very demons of hell. She had gotten rather far away from the castle when the toe of her boot caught on a rock, hidden by the darkness. Unable to right herself with the burden she carried in her arms, she came crashing to her knees, heavy tomes dropping all around her in the grass. Her hands went out to catch her fall, she did not stop her from connecting solidly with the ground as the last of her mental barriers crumbled. She could feel the psychic energy as it rampaged through her body and out into the open world, finding its release. Tears streamed silently from her eyes, causing dirt to cling to her face. Her hands were scraped and dirty from trying to catch herself in her fall. Her robes had ripped from the force with which she had tripped. She looked frightful with her grey hair and blackened eyes, but she had no time to care for such things as the massacre of her mental barriers caused her hold on conscious to blacken and fade. [blue]"I made it..."[/blue] she whispered in relief, though she didn't think anyone was around to hear her, [blue]... I made it..."[/blue] That was her last thought as she lapsed into unconsciousness.
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Kerridon Paradox
Ravenclaw
[blue]6th Year Ravenclaw[/blue]
One loss locked me in the heart of misery... but you had the key to set me free
Posts: 317
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Post by Kerridon Paradox on May 9, 2009 17:20:39 GMT -5
Kerridon was glad to see that D’rorah did stop when he called out her name. He took another step towards her and paused momentarily when he saw her stone cold face and black eyes; Dylan’s words had apparently affected her more harshly than he had thought. He continued heading towards her after he had gotten over his slight shock at her expression, noting how she turned her eyes downwards as the magic did its work and then, after, that she opened her mouth but said nothing, and closed it again a moment later. He nodded at her words – now he had seen her eyes, and having read plenty on what could happen with Shadow Warriors who had their emotions stretched a little too much, he was well aware that it would not be safe for her to stay unless something suddenly got her back under control. [blue]”I will not try to stop you,”[/blue] he told her, his mouth twisting a little as tears escaped from her eyes. She would need to get out of here soon to avoid any risk of harming other students. She seemed at a loss as to what to do, looking about and down at the books in her arms. A mere moment later, she turned and broke into a run away from him, heading down the nearby steps. About to head straight after her, Kerridon paused and checked up and down the corridor for students before casting the disillusionment charm on himself. D’rorah would be drawing enough attention as it was, no need to add to that by chasing after her. Who knew what sort of rumours would be produced by that. Once he was sure he could not be seen, Kerridon turned and swiftly pursued D’rorah, running with silent feet down several flights of stairs, just managing to keep her within eyesight at all times. He ran at about the same speed as her, having to dodge a few times to avoid running into students who were staring after the Ravenclaw prefect. The gossip would spread soon enough, he was sure. For now, let them ponder. He followed her through the door and into the courtyard, just about managing to slip through before it closed rather than have to open it again – which would kind of give away that someone was following D’rorah. He sped up his pace when he saw her trip, then suddenly came to a halt about ten metres away as he felt the energy disperse in a rather violent manner, tearing its way out of her. The moment it stopped, he was going forward again, kneeling next to D’rorah and immediately finding her unconscious. One glance about showed that no one was near enough to be paying any attention, and he stood again, lifting her in his arms and walking quickly towards the nearby edge of the Hogwarts boundaries. The books that had fallen on the floor were lifted in a hovering charm and followed where he led. He mused as he walked with disapproval that she was really far too light... she needed to learn to eat more. The moment he was past the border, he stood still and apparated with D’rorah to the edges of Paradox Hall. The vast grounds with the house on the hill brought back memories just as they had the last time he’d seen them, but now he was more concentrated on getting D’rorah somewhere safe. He swiftly made his way up the stone steps to the closest door – the back door was the main entrance to the gardens. Apart from apparating (which wasn’t at all advised for anyone not of the Paradox line, given the tremendous amount of curses around the estate), the only way into the gardens was through the house. Before entering through the door, he had to pause and shift D’rorah’s weight a little in his arms so he could reach out and scrape his hand across a purposely rough section of the wall which almost immediately drew blood. A moment later, the blood that had been left staining the wall appeared to be absorbed by the dark stone and he opened the door, disabling a few other curses mentally as he stepped through. That entrance ritual was at every door to Paradox Hall – without the correct blood, the doors would never open. It was linked to the blood naturally in the Paradox line, and although others could also be sworn into it by a rather nasty blood ritual it was rarely done. Such a thing risked the security of Paradox Hall, which had been in existence for several centuries and just renovated occasionally to keep up with current manners of impressiveness. And since Kerridon knew that there was no one else alive in the Paradox line, and no one recorded as having gone through the ritual who was still alive, it was a fairly secure method of keeping unwanted visitors out of the house, and the pain was minimal. He caught a glimpse of one house elf when he entered, and motioned it to follow as he made his way through the hallway. He ignored the various dead artefacts that were scattered around him, such as the crocodile’s skull or the zebra rug, used to them being a part of the scenery. From what he understood, his grandfather Marius had been a keen hunter and liked to display his triumphs in this after having been travelling, and they were scattered all over the house. He remembered little about either of his father’s parents – both had died in the year he had first come to Paradox Hall with Taisy, after his mother and other grandfather had disappeared. Both he thought had something to do with Dark Phoenix, but he didn’t have any of the details. Callidora he had liked well enough, from what he could remember, but Marius had always seemed a little scary. But he had only been ten at the time, so it was unlikely his childhood memories were all that accurate when it came to other people. At that point he had just gotten into research and reading a lot more, and that had been taking up a huge chunk of his attention. Moving from Taylor Manor to Paradox Hall just meant a new library to explore. He entered one of the smaller living rooms that came directly off from the hallway, placing D’rorah down gently on the settee – again decorated by a large dead animal – and turned to the house elf, giving instructions to go get a warm drink spiked with restorative draught and ready some decent food, as well as to put the books in a safe place. He placed himself down on the edge of the marble table, ignoring the outraged elf’s expression at this action, and watched D’rorah as he waited for her to wake up. The elves living here had been doing so alone for more than a year now, with an occasional visit from him, but even before then he could remember them being fiercely protective of the house’s artefacts and possessions. It was a little chilly in the room, so he gestured at the fireplace and set the dry wood alight, a stray thought wondering whether Dylan would be treating burns right now. The house elf returned soon after and placed a cup of steaming tea on the table before scurrying off to get some food. Kerridon turned his attention back to D’rorah, wondering just how long it was going to take her to regain consciousness. He didn’t want to use magic to reawaken her, because the reasons for her fainting to start with had been magical overload.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 9, 2009 22:05:00 GMT -5
D'rorah felt the lifting sensation as Kerridon gathered her up, followed shortly thereafter by the familiar pull of apparition. She moaned softly as they finished the apparition, but it was more the sound of trapped air escaping her lungs than one of actual pain. Though she sensed movement as she was carried up the stairs and into the house, she wasn't truly aware of it until Kerridon shifted her in his arms to enter the door. She was slowly coming back to reality, waking a little more with each movement.
She groaned as she was placed on the settee and winced at the hideous pounding in her head. Her overtaxed mind had been pushed far beyond her limits. This was one of the dangers of being a telepath... emotions made the mind harder to control. And a telepathic mind out of control was quite dangerous to people surrounding a telepath. That, coupled with the potential pull of darkness a Shadow Warrior faced, especially after repeated brushes with corruption, had made it so crucial to escape the castle to avoid hurting anyone else. The danger has passed now, so all she was left with were the after-effects... and her own pain, anger, and humiliation over the way she had been treated by Dylan.
She emerged into a state of fuller consciousness after several minutes and first took a deep breath of relief. [blue]"I made it..."[/blue] she murmured quietly, the sound of her voice trailing off as she repeated the last thought she had had before losing consciousness. But where was she now? Certainly, this wasn't the ground she remembered having tripped on. She awoke with a start. The first sight which greeted her was the bared fangs of the stuffed cheetah which was perched on the back of the settee. She jumped, pushing herself away from the perceived danger, her right arm reaching out on the other side to balance her and catching the marble table upon which Kerridon sat.
As she realized that the animal was not moving, and was in fact dead, her gaze shifted to the other person in the room and immediately recognized Kerridon. Her left hand moved to her forehead and her eyes pinched closed briefly as a powerful headache asserted itself. As her eyes opened again, she eyed the cheetah head warily and forced herself to sit up, feeling shaky but unwilling to allow herself to betray that weakness in front of Kerridon.
She did her best to resume her normal stiff, formal posture as she turned to face Kerridon. Being away from Dylan was helping immensely. He couldn't exert his mysterious pull on her emotions if he wasn't around. [blue]"I must be the most foolish being in existence,"[/blue] she stated quietly, berating herself while simultaneously apologizing to Kerridon. [blue]"Where are we?"[/blue] She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before reopening her eyes, now only slightly darkened from their normal pale grey. [blue]"How ridiculous a spectacle have I made of myself?"[/blue] She tried to summon a smile, but found that it faltered on her facial features as a tear slipped down her cheek. [blue]"And thank you."[/blue] If it hadn't been for Kerridon, she'd be lying on the outskirts of the castle grounds right now, easy fodder for any Shadow that might have come her way... and there was the issue of her repaired sleeves. It had been very thoughtful of him to see to that, not a necessity, but certainly greatly appreciated.
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Kerridon Paradox
Ravenclaw
[blue]6th Year Ravenclaw[/blue]
One loss locked me in the heart of misery... but you had the key to set me free
Posts: 317
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Post by Kerridon Paradox on May 11, 2009 10:18:17 GMT -5
Kerridon had felt D’rorah stirring a little as he made his way into the manor but paid no attention to it, instead aiming to get into safer territory as soon as possible. It didn't take her long to reawaken properly, and he heard her murmur something about having 'made it' as she came to, eyes still not open. He stiffened into alertness as she jumped, smirking a little when he realised that the cause of it was the dead cheetah he had once heard his grandfather boasting about. He was relieved to see that she was alert enough to at least recognise something that would naturally be considered a danger and respond to it.
[blue]"It is dead, D’rorah,"[/blue] he reassured her as she turned to him, frowning a little as she closed her eyes and put a hand to her forehead. She sat up and he turned to his side to take the mug of tea and handed it to her, not bothering to tell her that it contained restorative draught. [blue]"Here, this should help."[/blue] He noticed how she resumed her stiff posture as he turned to face him, which also gained his disapproval, although he didn't show it on his face this time.
He didn't comment on her statement of being foolish, instead answering her second question. [blue]"Paradox Hall. It belongs to me now, and seemed the safest place to take you."[/blue] He almost mentioned that it had belonged to his father before his death, but realised before he said it that the subject of Raziel would likely not be appreciated considering his actions in the attack on D'rorah and her family. Again he didn't reply to her question about being a spectacle, not wanting to help her self-deprecation along any more. Dylan had done plenty to that already. His hand ached to reach out and wipe the tear away from her face, but instead he nodded in response to her thanks. [blue]"Edlyn, one of the house elves, is getting some food for you. You really should eat regularly D'rorah,"[/blue] he told her, remembering how easy it had been to lift her up.
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Post by D'rorah Philosophy on May 11, 2009 10:54:21 GMT -5
D'rorah reached out to take the mug that Kerridon offered. [blue]"If there is a merciful bone in your body, this contains cyanide,"[/blue] she remarked morosely as her mind replayed the events of the evening. Between humiliation and physical pain from the psychic energy that had overloaded her mind, she thought death might be a gift of providence. She held the cup up and breathed in deeply the steam, but did not drink. Instead, she cradled the hot cup between her cold hands, savoring the warmth that emanated from within. She was certain the room wasn't cold, as there was a fire going in the grate; as usual the problem was her--specifically, the brushes with corruption that had stolen her warmth and vibrance. And losing Dylan had only made the problem worse. Losing her strongest emotional connection with the world around her wouldn't do much for helping her to hold onto her emotions and avoid corruption the next time it attempted to take her away.
She looked up and met Kerridon's eyes as he admonished her to eat regularly. [blue]"Yes, I am certain mealtimes will be a wonderful experience, Kerridon. I can have Mister Cooper bare my faults and sins for the entire school to see, instead of merely our housemates."[/blue] She paused as she breathed the steam in yet again, feeling the warm air pool in her lungs and soothe her jagged nerves. Unfortunately, soothing her nerves only seemed to unleash further tears as the scene from earlier once again played in her head. They quietly streamed down her face as she looked down into her cup of tea. [blue]"And I do eat,"[/blue] she added, certain it was a true statement and looking for something to divert her attention. [blue]"Why just at breakf..."[/blue] she trailed off, realizing she hadn't eaten breakfast. [blue]"No, at supp..."[/blue] she trailed off once again, realizing she hadn't eaten supper either. [blue]"I have had other things on my mind,"[/blue] she concluded finally, setting the cup aside as she became frustrated with herself. [blue]"Who cares in any matter?"[/blue]
She tried to make her expression defiant as she raised her eyes to meet his again. She would have preferred anything to the pathetic brokenness that inhabited her features at the moment. Unfortunately, the best she could manage was a calm sadness. She couldn't even summon anger. [blue]"The others were right, I was never meant to be a leader. I cannot even seem to properly manage my own personal affairs."[/blue] She winced as her headache throbbed again, sending a hand flitting up to her forehead as though physical touch might somehow soothe the mental agony. When she brought her hand away, she saw a thin streak of blood. Likely, she had cut herself when she tripped. Looking down, she could see that she was a frightful sight. Her robes were dirtied and torn, her hastily added sleaves were frayed and dirty. She ran her right hand down the length of her sleeved forearm. [blue]"The sleeves were more kindness than I deserved. Thank you."[/blue] She felt her voice falter and break as she finished the sentence. She wanted to go cry, which meant she wanted to hide away... even though she trusted Kerridon, she hated betraying weakness to anyone. She was the strong one, she was the one people had to be able to depend on to remain rock steady when all the rest of the world was crumbling around her. Shakily, she forced herself to her feet, intent on finding somewhere to hide the tears that shamefully streaked down her face. Unfortunately, she stumbled slightly as she rose, not quite physically up to the task at that exact moment.
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