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 Posted: Fri Dec 30, 2011 10:38 am
Quietly flowing
White
Dried clouds pass by
The ash-coloured me
Just watched their vanishing
Intently
A world of d a r k n e s s . . .  ✹ Cosette Aurelie Prewitt ✹
〖 Slytherin Sixth Year 〗 ♛ Cosette nodded as Charon spoke, distracted by the slight movement of her hand she thought she'd seen out of the corner of her eye. When he told her not to let it get to her, though, she looked up at him. "I cannot help her. There's absolutely nothing I can do...I've tried everything. And they say the longer she's like this, the less likely it is she'll wake up..." Her voice broke, and she forced it to be as normal as it could be. "Besides, I'm the last person she'd want to help her...Fix it? Ha! Do you really think it's that easy? The best healers we could find can't help either of us. Only temporary solutions, none of which seem to work very well..." She gripped her right wrist tightly, then looked up at him once more, now with surprise. A hesitant smile came to her face. "Thank you. I-I have given up, but then, you've always been more creative." She laughed softly as he continued. "If I'm the wise one, you were always the clever one. Without you, I--and maybe Dante too, I don't know--would have been dry and humorless even then." She sighed. "Things were so much easier then... And now, here we are, a year from graduating, and at least two of us have gone mad. I wonder how things would have been if I hadn't left?" Far simpler, certainly. If only...((This isn't very good, but my head is spinning...)) Encircling my heart... nostalgic.
I sit watching you... Charon.
And I can't help but think... If I'm wise, and he's clever, then what part does Dante play in our trio? A world of s i l e n c e . . .
Onto the castle of sand that I built
From gathering the stars
My tiny prayer
Falls
Waves that lay in waiting
Sweep you off your feet
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Posted: Thu Feb 16, 2012 5:02 pm
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Thu Feb 16, 2012 5:14 pm
Slip out the back before they know you were there
and at the worst you'll see nobody cares, you don't want to be around when it all goes down...  William Dante Nott the Third
Quick, hasty steps precariously led the youngest Nott across the castle stone floors in silence, and again, as they ventured beneath the high arch double doors of the castle to the sprawling grounds of evermore green outside. He continued on in silence, his footsteps padded in silence, and, only his breath could be heard adjoining the morning sun still clinging with the glistening morning dew. The sun barely crept out of the sky as they reached the forest, its rays scarcely jutting out, casting a field of shadows across the wake. ”I am,” he breathed, defiant, and sure.
The morning light set an ease upon him, an ease that only the contusive concoction of potioneering could do. It left him with a sense of power, of control, especially in a world where he was now everything but. The fabrication began to slip, threads began to pull, and he would need her help if he was to avoid the fire. "If I may ask... why are we here?"
   ..even heroes know when to be scared.
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Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2012 2:53 pm
Eyes of a raven
and ears of a hound
to hear the snakes in the grass.
╚══════════════╝
With the lights of the rising sun catching in her green eyes and playing like shards of glass to form daring and blooming colours and emotions refracted rather than reflected, there seemed to be a darker green that almost seemed of burnt wood beneath that of the pale lime and film of stone.
"The veil of something dark and forbidden has its thrills." with just a turn of her head her eyes were shielded by the dark shadows of the light were edging on the brink of such darkness it seemed they had erupted for that fragile line found in a second just as the tip of the sun finally reaped over the horizon. Bled from a place that knew no light at all and existed from the driest, hardest crevasses of the dark face of the moon.
"There are some places were only dark things can thrive." her throat whispered with the hiss of fiery snakes and ribbons as the line evaporated and shadows turned to those of norm as did her eyes when she turned and led them past the threshold that was like a chasm now than a step. Entering the haunting wood of trees what were pillars of their own element of darkness; stepping over dried pines and hearing the crunch of something that sounded like bone, Rosier led into the belly of the beast. However, only so far in that the light from the winding throat could still be seen.
In the silence they resumed travel in, she soon broke it with her stop in a clearly and a turn of her head towards the Golden Boy. "Basics, then?" And as the words exited with again the tone of no argument and decision rather than question, her hand worked in his chest pocket to reveal a tiny silk bag. From which she pulled the rather large text of Magical Theory and opened with on swipe of her wrist.
"You have of course read this, Mr. Nott, and in it you have found them stating that the most achievable road to successful Transfiguration is that of complete understanding of your two desired transformed objects. However, I have found this can extend in though. What needs to be focused on in complete concentration of understanding is not only the source object and the manipulated object. Knowing their every edge, element and flaw and feature grants you the ability to alter them to your will, yes. However, what you should also pay heed to is the possibly found in them. What you can make from each flaw and detail rather than just what you are making." The growing tone and power of her voice seemed to be the very wind itself as a crisp breeze that broke dawn ruffled through the dead limbs of the trees and lifted the inked words from the pages the witch held in her hand.
"The possibilities of power are even greater than the power itself."
   
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2012 3:26 pm
Slip out the back before they know you were there
and at the worst you'll see nobody cares, you don't want to be around when it all goes down... William Dante Nott the Third
"The veil of something dark and forbidden has its thrills." The haunt of her voice crept forth, a ghastly silken threat of underlying intentions scattered a million ways and as his eyes narrowed upon a slice of sunshine, it was then he wondered why she, of all of his professors, sought to help when no one else had. There’s a monster in me, he knew, he realized this long ago. The creeping realization of a deeper force beckoned his call, it invited him in to play. "There are some places were only dark things can thrive."
That’s when he knew, there’s a monster in her too.
The depth of its spine penetrating through barriers was unknown, a wary conscious thought. It surged, and soared, filling him inside with a sense of liveliness, of—what? He couldn’t place his finger on it but it built, a towering mass of stone and mortar. The rush of excitement caught his fingers, as it always had, when his father had been strict upon teaching him the code of honor. He followed her, those silent steps a trait inherited from his great-grandmother, the ghost of the private island. Meandering along the coast, shrouding himself in the shadows even as they delved into the darkness of the elusive forest, his eyes burning this memory into his mind. When she spun, his gaze of caustic callous gold caught her, and beneath the cool disposition, his world had been crumbling. ”I did.” He acknowledged her finally, the first time since they set foot from her office. Of course, he didn’t understand the theories presented, but that was besides the point.
”So power is a trick,” he interjected, his mind reeling, ”just a tool? I was always taught that power reflected differently upon every person, that, in the end, it meant only as much, or as little, as the fear in your opponent.
“Is that the same then? Evolving? Adapting to your opponents fears as you would to an objects make-up; manipulating what you can?” And as this profound wonder had struck him, her words colliding down and sweeping him in, his eyes sought forth, seeing the world with gray, where, there was once only black and white.
..even heroes know when to be scared.
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Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2012 4:06 pm
Eyes of a raven
and ears of a hound
to hear the snakes in the grass.
╚══════════════╝
The revelations playing like seven devils in the candlelight of his golden eyes that had now turned to a roaring fire seemed just as potent as her own had been when she herself had forged the theories and understandings in the breath of her own demons and devils and needs.
A sword - almighty yet perhaps it still needed cooling.
"Exactly a tool - power can come to anyone who truly wants it. Regardless of whatever heroic or demonic or inspiring ways by which he gained it, any one can in truth. Just as anyone could buy a pair of golden sheers if they save their money long enough. Power is a flimsy thing. In examples both from the wizarding and the filthy muggle world, you see that those great persons that receive of take power can just as easily lose or break it.
"Even things of gold break." she whispered, the wind of her voice one of flying knifes.
"Power should be used as whatever tool you wish it to be. Even if that is just to gain, or keep existing power, as dull as the idea is. Tools are best kept clean and working - in a condition that shows they are only used when necessary." She said now with the book once more hidden in the magic from which it came. Her eyes turning to finally look into those of gold into such a depth as she dove to previous. Flashes and waving shadows of of the boy's innermost thoughts, secrets and flaws hit the dim wall of the witch's own vision and she watched them. Watched the moving figures like those of creatures in illuminated water; never quite resembling what they truly were. Hidden in perfectly obvious sight. However, that sudden glimpse, that tiny shred that was perfectly clear and bold and illuminated suddenly caught her attention and she meant every one of her words to it.
"I do believe you are ready to try your hand at this, then." She said with ease and an uncharacteristic note in her tone as she created a large carved rock on top of a near stump of a fallen tree.
"Wand at the ready, Mr Nott."
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2012 4:29 pm
Slip out the back before they know you were there
and at the worst you'll see nobody cares, you don't want to be around when it all goes down... William Dante Nott the Third
Sudden and stark realization intermingled beneath the dark lit canopy of towering oak and pine and mahogany, William was riddled cozened red with that war that waged deep beneath the threshold. It burdened his being, burnt his blood to copper ash doused with arsenic. There was more, it’s true, a magnifying chaos just beneath the flesh and frozen in his bones. It was different, she would come to realize, no longer the horridly wicked curiosity tainted from the mind of a psychopath, no, there was more. It twisted its web, the image an immaculate mirror, fabricated to catch intruders off of their guard. It sung a hymn that not even Remington could dare repeat with that hissing tongue that knew all, his was, by far, worse.
”Even things of gold can break.” She whispered a foreboding promise.
’If only she knew,’with a sure and proud nod, Tay hadn’t even allowed the ideal truth he stumbled upon to boast his ego, no, he was far more cunning than Remington in that sense, as a child. He donned his wand, an immaculate instrument of mahogany wood infused with the essence of augurey feather and inscribed with a Latin sprawl awaited her signal.
..even heroes know when to be scared.
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Posted: Fri Feb 17, 2012 5:01 pm
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Feb 18, 2012 6:33 pm
Slip out the back before they know you were there
and at the worst you'll see nobody cares, you don't want to be around when it all goes down... William Dante Nott the Third
A spiral dance of golden flames leapt beneath the wake; the sudden still and silence—the calm before the storm—breathed life into his veins. Heart pumping maniacally through his ribcage, berating past barriers and flooding blood through his veins with such sickeningly sweet swiftness, he only wondered if this was what it felt like to duel, truly duel. Pale, cracked lips pursed together with his wand upheld, his free hand behind his back, a square stance as though meaning to duel. ”Transfiguro!” He demanded, his mind reeling.
Perhaps he never truly cared before, perhaps it was because he never truly cared for the creatures in question, or the transformations thereafter. But as his golden eyes struck the simple stance of the rock, mind whirling with thoughts of minerals, of structure and mass—and then his eyes closed. In his fingers, he felt the familiar cool iron handle of the foil he had practiced with during fencing competitions his entire life. He knew its shape, and he knew it well, the balance it carried, its weight and mass structure, it truly was the only thing he knew better than himself.
The transformation itself was a deliberate and tedious effort. Slow, winding strokes stretched the stone, a tangible force ripping it to the length of near two and a half feet, a base slowly carved into the curl with a simple handle morphing around it. Made of sheer stone; heavy, impractical, though sharp and lethal, a fencing foil glistened. The appearance of shining—albeit, distorted— gloss coated the stone which had been made from the unique minerals cultivated within the core of the rock. Though, its durablitiy was meek, at best.
..even heroes know when to be scared.
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Posted: Sat Feb 18, 2012 6:50 pm
Eyes of a raven
and ears of a hound
to hear the snakes in the grass.
╚══════════════╝
"Exceptional." she breathed. Tone and voice so disconnected from the air itself as her chest and lungs had risen to that place and feeling of suspension that came with adrenaline and awe strikes. They hung, dangling over the other parts of her, flaunting their exception and thrill of being lifted pas the threshold of gravity just as the witch felt an exception as she watched the whirl of magic. Their was no hesitation in it, the slow moving, forming of the spell was deliberate and commanded and the fine detail and power that radiated was not of any beginner. Just of one who had found a purpose to the task just completed - a purpose not before known.
Rosier approached the sword, so thin in element but so strong in form, with slowly outstretching hand and hitched breath. A mad rush of excitement shooting through her nerves at the very idea of touching it. And when she did - one out stretched finger grazing the sharp edge of the sword so perfectly balanced - the experience of ravaging flurrying was more than she could withstand and a chuckle tore from her throat as her head turned and angled to see ever piece and part of her new student's creation.
"Just as expected." Her eyes of green, now bright with an unknown vice and emotion of twisted joy, turning past the threshold of her shoulder to see the victorious Nott in his still withheld duel stance. "I am very impressed with this, William. Very impressed indeed."
Completely turning now, leaving the transfigured foil to keep its unwavering balance of perfection on the base of the tree stump, and instead facing fully the figure of William Nott the Third. "You were never incapable of this, you know. You simply did not want it. What made you want it now?"
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Essy ze Ninja Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Feb 18, 2012 7:22 pm
Slip out the back before they know you were there
and at the worst you'll see nobody cares, you don't want to be around when it all goes down... William Dante Nott the Third
Silence fused with magic to create a perfect balance, but it hung in his throat, that anxiety that met his work, that plagued him during any performance of magical ability. His inner demons were a distraction, at best, turmoil in chaos, at worst. It followed him like a shadow, crept beneath that flesh and boiled in his blood. A will that knew he was better than this, that he could do better—but it felt so slow, so easy, so repetitive, so bloody boring, he could never focus. His mind wandered, to the blood, to the bite, to the love of the fight.
”What can I say?”
’What can I say?'
He shrugged.
”I miss my sword.” He swept past her now, his eyes intent and focused upon the vessel of rock and mineral that lay sprawling before him. His hand grasped it hastily, adept in focus and speed and deliverance. He knew if it had been anything else, he would have failed.
”I’ve been fencing since before I could walk—it’s what I know best—
“And turning mice to teacups is none too appealing to me.” Could it have been stress—the adrenaline of fear of defeat beneath those cold green eyes—or the free form alluring difficulty that kept his mind? Whatever it was, he’d have to figure it out, soon.
..even heroes know when to be scared.
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Posted: Sat Feb 18, 2012 7:32 pm
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2012 11:47 pm
       Vita sighed, eyes closed, content with her surroundings. The woven grass bra she wore was a little itchy, but nothing she couldn't tolerate. She was tired from the night before; a sort of party that had lasted nearly all evening long. It was a coming of age ceremony that her herd did for the young foals and colts. There was much dancing and racing and plenty of food and drink. But she was happy for the reprieve this morning, when she was let off her duties to enjoy her day alone. The female centaur was eighteen now. Old enough to start her own family within the herd and begin to establish herself and what she wanted to do for the it. She could try for leader, but she loved her grandfather, so she would wait respectfully for him to either pass on to the afterlife or step down and allow someone else to take over. Another option could be healer. Vita loved her father's work and knew nearly as much as he did. Ah, but the last option was the one she favored; second to leader of course. It was to be a huntress, like her mother. She knew almost all of the forest terrain and could tell you where each fox family lived and how many kit's they had this season. It was also important that she know where all the dangers were, such as where the giant Acromantula and it's babies nested and hunted.
This all created a delicate balance of life and death. One that Vita was careful to maintain. She opened her eyes to gaze out through The Veil as she liked to call the waterfall she laid behind. The terrain of the forest always amazed her. It rose and fell and created beautiful formations and natural art. Particularly, the streams, rivers, lakes, and falls. The Veil was far enough away from her herd's "camp" that she was not concerned with being interrupted. But it also meant that she wouldn't be able to call for help should she get in trouble.
The sudden beat of hooves pounding the ground invaded her calm, making her sit up straight and listen. 'Three different patterns... two voices, both male... heading to the edge of the forest.' She gathered her weapons: a dagger, hung from a cord of leather wrapped tightly around her waist so as not to bounce as she ran. And her bow and arrows slung over her chest and back. She didn't recognize the voices, nor the hoof beats. Her grandfather had told her that there were other herds of centaurs that lived in the forest. That he dealt with them, traded information and advise. But he wouldn't allow her to come with him when he did. When you are old enough, I will take you with me., he had told her time and time again. Well, she was of age and would meet them herself if he wasn't going to. She bounded over the moss covered rocks and over to drier land like a deer, graceful from years of training and practice. It was effortless to trail the three unknown centaurs, following just far enough behind as to not alarm them to her presence. Vita didn't want them thinking she was going to attack them. Oh, but the run was exhilarating. She loved galloping through the forest at any given time. It made her feel so free. Often she'd think she was flying just a little when she jumped. Of course gravity proved her wrong, but it didn't dwindle the feeling.
Her pace slowed as she saw them stopping, and she hid behind a tree. It looked like they were waiting for someone. 'But who?' Her grandfather hadn't said anything about meeting with any of the other herds today, so it couldn't be him. Were they meeting someone else? Another herd? Their own? A different creature? 'The suspense is likely to kill me...', but she waited patiently, like she had been taught all her life.
And there, the lead centaur, pulled aside a kind of curtain, revealing a beautiful witch behind it, holding something. He walked forward, pride in his baring, and spoke to the witch; introducing them all, save for herself, who was still hidden from view. Ammar, himself. Nyurion:, the black haired stallion. And Naaki, a delicate looking, male deer centaur. Vita had never seen one before. 'Does grandpa know of this deer centaur?' Her attention was brought back to the conversation at hand. 'A gift? From a witch?' She waited and listened in silence.     
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Posted: Thu May 17, 2012 6:08 pm
 ❤❤ T A M A R A♛R A D C L I F F E
HOGWARTS GRADUATE ￤￤ if you're going through hell, keep on going
xxxxxxxxxx x x ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬▬▬▬▬ ▬▬A large German Shepard padded over the rocks and vines with a basket clutched in its teeth. It would stop occasionally and sniff the ground, then pad off in a different direction. The other fauna seemed to generally leave the dog alone, which was curious. The dog stopped at a patch of purple flowers and sniffed them a couple times. Then a more curious thing happened. The dog transformed into a human, a woman with blond hair, wearing a cloak. She smiled and started to pick the flowers, placing them into the basket. "Aconite is expensive at Slug and Jiggers, so I'm glad I found more," she said to herself, speaking to no one in general. Humming, she picked up the basket and headed a little deeper into the forest. She found a few other ingredients she needed to stock up on while she was walking and picked a few more. Stopping, Tamara leaned against a tree and drew in a deep breath. "You know, the Forbidden Forest is actually quite relaxing," she said with a knowing smirk.
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Posted: Fri Jun 01, 2012 3:15 am
❝I'm gonna hide my heart behind the peacock's fan, and keep my friends real close, yeah this is how it's gonna go.❞  ▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄
Getting out of the Chamber had been easier than expected. The Ravenclaw had bolted after the spell had been cast, sprinting through the dungeons he looked for the first way out of the Castle. Zane had found it soon enough. His escape had been unobstructed. For such a safe place, Hogwarts was well suited for a murderer.
Now, part way in the Forbidden Forest, Zane leaned against a tree trying to wrap his mind around the consequences he would be facing. If adults were sent to Azkaban for murder, what would become of the Third Year? He knew he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts. Not as a student, and not while corruption was kept out of the school's administration. They would probably snap his wand.
And then there was the matter that had gotten him in this mess. The issue that caused Zane Acacia to feel a sense of pride at what he had done. Roi had taken him under his wing as a First Year and brought him closer to the darkness. That darkness had filled his heart and clouded his vision. The demon had put a great deal of trust in the Ravenclaw, asking him to be his second-in-command and for a time, the one in charge of his army. Now what was he to do?
"This is going to haunt me for some time,"
the. Oh sighed to himself. "Maybe she was right about Roi, but I'm too far out to come back in. Especially now.
▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄ OOC: --- ❝Should I kill you with my sword, yeah? Or should I kill you with this word?❞
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