# PEN FADES, BLOOD LASTS.
—————————————————————————-♛ pen fades, blood lasts-————
| === | date: 9 / 1 / 2024 place: platform 9 3/4, kings cross station. wordcount: 918 |
====================== | langs: greek / latin italian / english outfit: hogwarts uniform. song: daniel in the den. |
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| ===== | ===== '' 𝓣 hat old bastard couldn't even properly send his own son off." Sanguinius allowed a laugh to slip past his teeth, dry and hollow of as much as it was resentful of its own making. The crinkling of the parchment in his tightly gripped hands, the clean handwriting on the surface that looped with one and another in a fancy show of cursive, somehow brought a sense of bitter nostalgia. While he had not felt the familiar sensation of desperation since his early childhood, he had not forgotten the feeling either. It was difficult to not recall the taste of iron in your mouth, the moments of when your own father was merely a stranger who only acknowledged your presence whenever the occasion drew near. He and his father were never the perfect picture of a family, the empty space of where his mother should have occupied made it clear enough; yet the sting that came with his lack of presence still didn't lessen. Still, he had yearned for that familial closeness. The closure of knowing that he'd always have a pillar to lean on if, for some odd and explicit reason, the whole world suddenly erupted into flames and devastation reigned free. It seemed like a happy pipe dream to Sanguinius who knew nothing of the true nature of family, just the vague sense of the word and something to only fantasize about when his weary head had finally hit the pillows. Renato had always been like this, he thought, a clever master of dismissals, leaving others to grapple with the crippling fallout. Renato Demarest, a father in title but a ghost in the role. He was more like a dementor, really, a revenant, than a person with a heart that pumped full of blood. There were only four lines in total, leaving a large margin of space to encompass the rest of the parchment. Sanguinius, Best of luck to you. Sic Semper Tyrannis. - - - Renato Demarest. "How typical," he mused cruelly to himself, skimming the paper with the type of interest one had when choosing a new color for their drapes before he balled the letter up with a surprising show of aggression that had managed to burst forth. "Poor me couldn't even warrant a howler, of all things, to be sent. I'll bet that he's rolling around in his new silk sheets, absolutely loving the fact that i'm no longer in the villa." As he stood on the platform, with the steam from the engine of the train curling around him, the matter of his attendance to the school every young witch and wizard dreamed of going to loomed over him. It wasn't that surprising that he grew up hearing about the duels that took place in its halls, of how the greatest minds in the wizarding century spent their time in the castle, it was the basic standard for every child that was raised with magic at such an intimate reach. Hogwarts was a swirling cesspool of a mixed variety of sorts, certainly more open to people like Sanguinius unlike Durmstrang who only accepted pure of blood or Beauxbatons that were entirely made up of ladies. He was half-blood, or he thought he was. Sanguinius was not a fool nor was he full of himself. He knew that as grand as the books made Hogwarts out to be, there would be obstacles in his way. If there was anything that he had learned from being a Demarest, it would be to keep his blade ready and poised until it was time to strike. He found himself missing the heavy weight his sapier left on his hands, the remaining blisters from last night's training session were still throbbing with leftover energy. He hoped that his unusually dependent attachment to the weapon wouldn't push his studies back. There was no use in floo'ing back to the villa to potentially smuggle it into one of his many trunks, an extension charm was already placed on each of Sanguinius's belongings beforehand so he wouldn't have to worry about it poking a hole through the material. The scandalous idea of bringing his rapier to school was quickly pushed out of his thoughts by the whistle of the beast, reminding him of the reason of why he was still stood outside of it's compartments. He grumbled, "wonderful." Sanguinius was left to witness the many teary goodbyes and weepy promises of 'owl'ing back as soon as possible' of several families while other children quickly boarded the train lest they be left behind, which was also more than awkward and amusing for him to see. He picked up his carrier bag from off the floor, grimacing slightly at the grime that clung stubbornly to the bottom before it was washed anew by another charm, the rest of his luggage having been stuffed inside already. The calluses of his fingers brushed against the leather handle, tightening and loosening as he tested its heaviness. Sanguinius shook out his arms, a frown of displeasure settling onto his face as he walked over to the entry. |
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| ▬▬▬▬ | == | ( @ 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 ) | == | 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝. ♛ 𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒅. |