17 Oct 2024, 06:33
# price for damnation.
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๐๐๐ ;ใใโข...9 / 10 / 2024 ใ๐๐๐๐๐ ;ใใโข.dada class, first floor. ใ๐๐๐๐ ๐ ;ใใโข837. |
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โขโขโขlatin / greek / italian / englishโข...ใใ; ๐๐๐๐๐ใ โขโขโขโขโขโขโขโขโขhogwarts uniform.โข.ใใ; ๐๐๐๐๐๐ใ
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| โขโขโขโขโขโขโขโข | โขโขโขโขโขโขโขโข ๐ฑ or a class whose lessons only consisted solely of how one could counter the pervasive threats of dark magic, it made a strange juxtaposition, in the way it had been not-so strategically laid out. The room was divided into three columns, with desks meticulously aligned in neat systematic rows, one behind another, the polished surface of each table gleaming from the evidence of having been wiped recently. Sanguinius was certain that there were other charms working under the seams, no one could make something that possibly dazzling to look at. Sparkling, even. Marks from the chairs and other elements to ponder about were embedded deep into the wooden floor, indicating a pattern of curious usage that had occurred long before Sanguinius's time in the classroom. There were dust motes, floating lazily in the air, illuminated by the slanted beams of natural light that had filtered through the tall, narrow windows ; their designs made to look more like an arch to blend in with the hollow concave of the ceiling. When he had trudged in with the rest of the students, he had half expected for it to be a wide clearing, all furniture parted away to make way for the spells that would, no doubt, would be sling-shotted back and forth. What he didn't expect, was to spend nearly all of his class time sitting in a seat, idly scrawling away on the parchment with his quill in hand, writing in his refined, lavish flair. Sanguinius tapped the pointed end on the paper, flicking his eyes - fragments of a wintry respiration - over to the unopened ink cartilage that he had brought with him from the common room. His dorm mates were kind enough to lend a spare, for all the dismay he had felt for asking in the first place. Although, he would be caught dead first, for when purgatory finally freezes over, he would only make the same mistake again. The instructorโs voice droned on, outlining yet another method to repel the tenebrous incantations of... Sanguinius found his mind wandering. His ability to focus was never one that he had to question before, he trusted himself, wholeheartedly, to absorb all of the knowledge that was to be presented - like a sponge soaking up spilled water. Yet today, the words wandered past him, evasive and insubstantial, as much of the class had been for the past ten days or so. Sanguinius felt as if he would be far more entertained if it were swordplay instead. Brutalized, blood-slicked hands throbbing from hours spent gripping the hilt of a blade, each laceration a visceral evocation of the violence that had become his constant companion. But he wanted more, and more. The crimson staining his fingers, jagged cuts and raw skin marring his palms, aching with the weight of his troubled mind, as if the very metal of the sword he wielded seeped into him, merging into his crux. The haunting pull of desperation and rage - an insatiable hunger to carve his way through the trenches that had enveloped him. Air thick with the scent of iron, he could almost hear the sweetness of the steel ringing. He needed something stimulating. Something that would make him turn his head around, bare his teeth. Ravage anew. He was, if not, addicted to it. And to other socially erupt equally-pleasant activities. Such as writing, by the looks of it. But the craving that had begun to pool at the pit of his belly, he had realized, a deep, unsettling starvation that gnawed at him like a restless specter - wouldn't let off. It coiled tightly, a restless ache that demanded to be addressed, each pang and ache amplifying the fixation for something primal tugged at his insides. He'd rather be in combat than be trapped in a classroom where the words seemed to drift like leaves on a still pond. Waters that were still were never a good omen ; they hinted at decay, at unseen dangers that awaited just beneath the surface. Stagnation led to the growth of algae and bacteria, breeding grounds for all sorts of undesirable consequences. Elements of repugnance that Sanguinius would prefer to avoid altogether. Sanguinius should start looking into the clubs that Hogwarts hosted, see if dueling or playing quidditch would allow him some semblance of peace. |
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;ใใโข...@evpraksiya vinogradova ใ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ;ใใโขโขโขโขโขnone as of. ใ๐๐๐ ๐ ;ใใโขsanguinius needs to calm down, lil bro is not going anywhere. |
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| โฌโฌโฌโฌ | == | (ใ@ ๐ก๐จ๐ฅ๐ฒ๐๐๐ก๐๐ฌใ) | == | ๐ฌ๐ก๐จ๐ฐใ ๐ฆ๐ใ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ๐ซใ ๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ซ๐ง๐ฌ,ใ ๐๐ง๐ใ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฅ ๐ฌ๐ก๐จ๐ฐใ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎใ๐ก๐๐ง๐๐ฌใ๐ซ๐๐๐๐ฒใ๐ญ๐จใ๐๐ฅ๐๐๐. ใใใใใใโใใ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ . |
21 Oct 2024, 08:27
# price for damnation.
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โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ 2024. 10. 9.| @Sanguinius Demarest.... |
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xxxxxxxx๐vpraksiya was having a rather horrid day. She had woken to the soft tapping on her dorm windowโan inquisitive creature peering through the glass with dark, liquid eyes. It could have been a Grindylow, a siren, or perhaps a particularly suspicious piece of kelp. She was hardly in the state to tell them apart, not at the ungodly hour it arrived, while she admired and idolized her eldest sister Nadezhda who attempted to change Evpraksiyaโs own sleep schedule, she still maintained that five in the morning was an indecent time for anyone to be bothering her (medical emergencies were not exempt, they could wait until after five to die). Either way, the creature and herself shared a glance of mutual disinterest before going on with their respective mornings (-it was still. night.) If there was anything Evpraksiya missed about home, it was certainly the warmth. The Slytherin dorms werenโt freezing no, not anywhere near as frigid as the freezing winters in Russia outside of her heated rooms but there was a biting dampness in the air, the sort of chill that crawled beneath layers of skin and made itself home in the flesh of warm bodies. She half-suspected the administration of Hogwarts had kept it this way to deter curious intruders or the bold students who thought wandering out after dark would prove an adventure. Not that she hadโ save for the odd sleepwalking episodes. It was such a horrid day, in fact, that when she took her usual seat at the front of Defense Against the Dark Arts, she almost didnโt notice the Gryffindor beside her. Almost. He was sitting there, leaking the sort of simmering, barely-contained anger that one associate with wild thingsโmangy stray cats or feral dogs if she was feeling kind. Rabid vermin if she wasnโt. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, not entirely interested but vaguely curious. His white-blond hair was not quite as striking as Novalieโs blazing vermilion, but it held a certain gleam in its untamed disarray that she likened to the redhead's. His posture, she noted, had the grace of someone used to being watched, a particular poise that spoke of pureblood etiquette training. And yetโฆ there was something frantic about him. Something boorishly unrefined. It was his eyes, though, that caught her interest. Not baby blue, nor fully carmine, but separated in between his irisโpigments of murky, tumultuous shades that held emotions unspoken. Anger, she supposed it was mostly. He stared at his parchment as if sheer willpower alone would bore a hole straight through it. It was an amusing display of control, or rather, the lack of it. In a pureblood heir, such self-restraint (or lack thereof) was ratherโฆ pitiful, yet oddly fitting for this stray alley cat masquerading as a lion. โHow disappointing,โ she mused. โShouldnโt a lion be a lion?โ Nadezhdaโs voice whispered a gentle admonishment in the back of her mind. โCuriosity is a virtue to have, yes,โ she would say, placing her once-callused, now smooth hand on her shoulder. โBut prodding at carcasses? You know better than that Yulasha, they carry disease.โ Nadezhda, with her effortless grace and carefully chosen words, had once advised her against associating with those beneath herโ especially when Evpraksiya had brought home a friend from a family that stood in direct opposition to theirs. โฆThat girl didnโt linger in her life long after. Still, this was a classroom, and surely there was no harm in helping a fellow student? She needed some form of contact to establish a favorable reputation and classmates not taking notesโ well, it was simply a matter of academic concern for her of course. Worry for one of her contemporaries. Her curiosity could be indulged, if only for a moment. After the lecture Evpraksiya would incline her head slightly towards the Gryffindor, she addressed him, her voice soft yet deliberate, a note played perfectly in tune. โHello, apologies for disturbing you but I noticed you werenโt taking any notes,โ she observed, her words gently wrapped in formality. โWould you like mine? If nothing else I can assure you theyโre quite accurate.โ A understatement. She wouldnโt settle for anything less than perfection. Evpraksiya stared at him with a form of detached curiosity, the same way a scientist might look at a particularly interesting strain of bacteria underneath their microscope even as a sweet (saccharine, saccharine, falseโ) smile graced her lips. โโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโโ |
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OOC; i remember the days when my characters weren't assholes for no reason...
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โThe devil's voice is sweet to hearโ | xxx STA 7 โ EVA 10 โ STR 0 โ WIS 8 โ ARC 5 โ ACC 10 LOVELY CREATURE |