|
|
Post by nalagreyback on Apr 16, 2011 20:41:21 GMT
Everything was quiet.
She was standing in the Forbidden Forest, taking in the scent of the moist earth beneath her paws. Dark eyes scanned the area as she took steps forward, sinking slightly into the dirt that she was padding across. Her ears twitched instinctively towards every soft noise that was made, although as a bird shot from one of the treetops like a tiny, blue bullet, her head swiveled to one side and she inhaled deeply. She didn't smell anything out of the ordinary...
Then again, tracking well wasn't one of her particular talents. She was more of the healing type, rather than being able to scent an enemy from miles off. However, soon the raw, metallic scent of blood enveloped her senses, stinging her eyes and invading her taste buds. Nala whimpered softly, ears turning in as she daringly continued onward. Pushing through some thick brush, she thought she heard the sound of a woman. The woman was in distress, she could tell that much.
Although she didn't want to move forward, something inside of her pushed her onward. Continuing on, she saw a young woman lying on the ground, clutching herself in a tight hug as dark scarlet pooled around her. It didn't take someone who was incredibly smart to realize it was her own blood, but the woman's identity frightened the werewolf, perhaps that even more than the condition the human was in.
It was her human self.
Sitting up suddenly in bed, Nala Greyback clutched her chest and took in several gasps before lowering back down to her pillows. She was safe and sound, in her bed in her living quarters within Hogwarts Castle. She ran her hand through her long locks of golden blonde hair, biting down on her bottom lip. That had only been one of several nightmares from that night. Lately it was as if she hardly slept peacefully at all due to these horrible nightmares.
She noticed the sun immediately, realizing that she had a Flying class to teach rather soon. Getting up from bed carefully, she walked over to her trunk, digging through it to find something presentable to wear. Once finding what she planned on donning that day, she walked over to the bathroom to get a nice shower to perhaps calm her thoughts.
However, the steaming water and smell of soap was no help at all. She still saw that one snapshot of herself in the forest, dying. She didn't know what all of that meant. She had no idea. As she prepared herself for her class she continued to think about the bizarre dream, styling her hair with ease and putting on a light amount of makeup. She grabbed her broomstick and began walking out of the dungeons to the Great Hall, planning on eating before having to teach a group of kids about the wonders that included flying.
It was a saturday, so she hadn't sure about the amount of students who would plan on showing up. She didn't care if it was one or one hundred; flying was something she'd teach to anyone. She tried to use these positive thoughts to keep her going as she ate a small breakfast and then excused herself to go to the Pitch. It took her about fifteen minutes to reach the field and when she arrived, no ne was there yet. She decided to use this time to stretch a bit, standing as she pulled one arm across her body, then doing the same to the other. She cracked her knuckles and then put on fingerless Quidditch gloves so she wouldn't hurt her hands during instruction, then leaned against her broom while waiting for someone, anyone to show up.
Hopefully a few hours of flying would ease her nerves.
WORDS! some
STATUS! complete
TAGS! anyone
NOTES! outfit hurr
INSPIRATION! The Killers
CREDITS! Template Byarro @ Caution!
Pic By
Google [:
LYRICS! Mr Brightside by The Killers
[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by Zane Cade Lestrange on Apr 16, 2011 23:23:56 GMT
Saturday mornings were made for having a lie in. Many of his fellow Gryffindor students were doing exactly that. But Zane wasn't the type to laze about, unless he was hungover, which was a different matter entirely. He jumped out of bed and promptly nearly tripped over a stray pair of socks which James had thrown at him last night. He hopped around the dormatory which was still in relative darkness. He didn't want to wake up his fellow seventh years, that would not be a wise move. He picked out a plain grey t-shirt, some dark navy joggers and a pair of socks. It was only after dressing and walking out onto the stairs did he realise that he only had one trainer in his hand. He disappeared, back into the darkness of the dormatory, searching around for his lost scruffy trainer, before he found it, perched on the window sill. He laughed slightly befre retrieving it and making his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.
The Hall was only partially filled with a scattering of students and professors. As he ate his crumpets, he thought about the lesson ahead. There was a new flying professor and no one seemed to know much about her, apart from the fact that she was a she and not a he. The few rumours flying around made her out to be about ninety with bright purle glasses and a very croaky voice. Zane hoed that this wouldn't be the case, but he prepared himself, just in case. After all, he had to impress her in order to get a good grade and keep his dreams alive of playing professionally. He wasn't sure who else would be attending the practice and the few students remaining in the hall didn't seem likely candidates for early saturday morning quidditch training.
Crumpets consumed, he made his way out into the grounds, pausing only at the broom shed to pick up his precious broomstick, before continuing to the pitch. Now it wasn't unusual for him to be the first person there, but today, he wasn't. He paused at the gates to the pitch, unsure as to whether the person was a student or the new professor. He decided to walk over, after all he didn't want to be caught standing at the gates just watching. As he approached, he saw that the person was not a student and therefore must have been the new flying professor. But she was so...young. She definitely wasn't ninety, more like early twenties. And she wasn't wearing glasses, although she might have had contact lenses. And as for the croaky voice, he had absolutely no idea, seeing as though she hadn't spoken yet. He walked over to her, not really sure whether to introduce himself or to wait for her to speak first. As he levelled with her, he settled for an average run of the mill line. "Hello Professor".
|
|
|
|
Post by Vivian Nevaeh Malfoy on Apr 17, 2011 22:51:30 GMT
Vivienne truly did hate her father. He had only just discovered how horrible his younger child was on the broom, and how much she hated to be on one, and in his fit of rage, he slapped her on the cheek and told her she was to take flying lessons and get over it, because he wasn't going to have a child not being in Quidditch. This was only two days prior, at a Death Eater meeting, and she still had a bruise from it, and it still stung. She didn't even want to think of what Zane would do if he had seen it, even Scorpius, mister ice shell, was furious when her father had slapped her, he barely held himself back when it happened. She knew this because, after the force of his made her go to the ground, she had seen him through tear filled eyes, and he look absolutely vehement.
She had woken up that morning with a frown on her face, not wanting to do what she was doing today. The only reason she detested flying so much was because of the heights for it, she never liked heights, being high in the air on something you could easily slip off of scared her to bits. After slipping out of bed, grumbling the whole way, she had went to her mirror, and with an artists touch, covered up the yellowish-purple bruise on her left cheek, then evened out the skin on her face to match her now bruise-less cheek. She had never really appreciated foundation and cover up until now, but it sure helped her a lot. She had slipped the night gown from her body, then quickly slipped her tan shorts on over her lacy black nickers, then put on a gray tank top over her matching lacy black bra, the light reflecting off of the tiny diamond stub in her belly button. Yes, Vivienne had gotten her navel pierced, no, only she and one other knew of it. She quickly slipped a brown leather belt through the belt loops of her shorts. She quickly put on deodorant, the muggle invention she loved so much, and slipped on a long sleeved, low neck green shirt, which was think enough to slightly see the gray beneath it. She quickly applied liquid eyeliner to her eyes, along with a smoky green, blue, and gray shadow, and a wipe of mascara, then she was slipping on her light green shoes, after putting on socks, and she was out of her room in a flash, wand strapped securely to her belt loop in a carrier.
She went stomping down the stairs to the Great Hall and almost devoured a full course, she may be small, but she sure had an appetite, and after trying her hardest to find a certain Lestrange boy in the crowd, and failing at it, she finished her food, and sighing, holding grandma Cissa's locket in her hand, she left the Great Hall and left for where she was told to be for lessons. A few other people would be there, she didn't know who, but she sure did know she didn't want to fly. While walking, she quickly threw her hair into two pigtails, her bangs hanging to the left side of her face, she slipped her ring out of her wand holder and onto her finger for now, not wanting to lose it. As she approached the pitch, she spotted a head of bright blonde, and a slightly older woman, she had to be the new professor, the bright blonde head most definitely wasn't. Smiling, she approached quietly, and once in hearing range, said,"Good morning, Professor! Morning, Z." Smiling brightly at a certain Zane Lestrange and nodding her head at the older female.
outfit; this |
|
