27 Sep 2018, 03:18
The Magic of being Lost.
Ah, the magic of being lost. What else could Cadayle ask for. The thrill of excitedly pushing open a door only to find more doors. As mundane and sarcastic as that sounded, she didn't consider the feelings she was experiencing as mundane or sarcastic. She felt excited, intrigued, and mystified with every step she took and with every glance she shot, ready for the next adventure to spring up. Shaking away her thoughts she took in a breath and dramatically pushed the door open in front of her, only to have her energy be transferred to calmness and curiosity. The Small Hall was quiet, empty. A theme of the castle she wasn't quite used to. She stood there, stupefied as the door promptly shut behind her, awakening her senses. All it took was one glance of the heroes and the legends painting the walls like proud crowns and decorated metals. An instant grin took Cadayle's face, she noted that she might have gasped as she wandered into the hall of legends. Walking forwards in a twirl, she took in the sight of all these fabled saviors and genius witches and wizards. It took Cadayle a moment to realize she had made her way all the way down to the fire place by the end of the hall. Her body caressed by a welcoming yet exciting warmth as her green eyes scattered the horizon of the best of the best.
Her eyes caught one face in particular. Ablus Dumbledore. She had heard many of stories about this man. How grand of a wizard he was and what he had done for Hogwarts. Yet to most it was common knowledge of his accomplishments, Cadayle knew nothing. She was struck with a heart pang, a desire to learn more about this man. To know his life and what lead him to greatness, and ultimately, if Cadayle could match his legendary status. She took a moment to think about how "Slytherin" her thoughts were, noting to tame her taste for glory with humility, and to temper her zeal with a humble attitude. Though she couldn't help but stare, taking in every feature of the bearded wizard.
Her eyes caught one face in particular. Ablus Dumbledore. She had heard many of stories about this man. How grand of a wizard he was and what he had done for Hogwarts. Yet to most it was common knowledge of his accomplishments, Cadayle knew nothing. She was struck with a heart pang, a desire to learn more about this man. To know his life and what lead him to greatness, and ultimately, if Cadayle could match his legendary status. She took a moment to think about how "Slytherin" her thoughts were, noting to tame her taste for glory with humility, and to temper her zeal with a humble attitude. Though she couldn't help but stare, taking in every feature of the bearded wizard.
Life is a door, let's shoulder slam it open! To Adventure and Magic!
28 Sep 2018, 03:46
The Magic of being Lost.
Ah, the magic of the hunt. What more could one ask for? That feeling that seeped into you, into your very soul and let you know that you were truly alive. Or at least that you weren’t dead yet, which equated to the same thing. He wasn’t hunting anything in particular, either, so it could be said that he was simply on the prowl. He was hunting for danger, things life threatening and perilous that could potentially be recorded in the book he was making. The book was less for himself and more for his friend, Eris. She would be able to use it as a field guide, navigating a world that creeped and crawling with oozing evil. Evil that could hurt, maim and kill.
And he wouldn’t always be there, he often wasn’t, for that matter. Trusting the little girl to take care of herself as she probably trusted him. When he wasn’t around, she would have the book to guide her. But, of course, that meant he had to find all the dangers of hogwarts, and that was no easy task. Danger, as a rule, didn’t let you find it. If you went looking for something dangerous, if it was truly dangerous you probably wouldn’t find it. Dangerous things were unexpected things. Unexpected things were dangerous.
He had arrived in the small hall by slipping through the ajar door, and walked straight down the middle until he found a girl looking at portraits. Specifically one of some old man by the name of albus dumbledore. He looked funny, to say the least. Funny and generally unimportant. Far more interesting than the picture of the old man was the girl who was studying it. Reason being she was tangible, and could hurt him or help him should she decide on one or the other.
She looked strong enough, broad shoulders acting as a sort of stand for a head full of shockingly yellow hair. It looked like she had painted her hair yellow, making her stand out like a fire in a field of black grass. The prefect was an entirely different story. Sallow, pale skin with touches of grey that made it look like something off of a corpse. Dark blue-grey eyes set above dark shadows that spoke a silent testament to the lack of sleep his body had been receiving. A huge umbrella the size of a staff was strapped to his back, and behind that was a cape that brandished itself, silken shining blue, the outside splattered with black.
He thought for a moment on how to start the conversation, but could think of almost nothing. So he went with just asking her a question he wanted an answer to.
”Are you deadly?”
And he wouldn’t always be there, he often wasn’t, for that matter. Trusting the little girl to take care of herself as she probably trusted him. When he wasn’t around, she would have the book to guide her. But, of course, that meant he had to find all the dangers of hogwarts, and that was no easy task. Danger, as a rule, didn’t let you find it. If you went looking for something dangerous, if it was truly dangerous you probably wouldn’t find it. Dangerous things were unexpected things. Unexpected things were dangerous.
He had arrived in the small hall by slipping through the ajar door, and walked straight down the middle until he found a girl looking at portraits. Specifically one of some old man by the name of albus dumbledore. He looked funny, to say the least. Funny and generally unimportant. Far more interesting than the picture of the old man was the girl who was studying it. Reason being she was tangible, and could hurt him or help him should she decide on one or the other.
She looked strong enough, broad shoulders acting as a sort of stand for a head full of shockingly yellow hair. It looked like she had painted her hair yellow, making her stand out like a fire in a field of black grass. The prefect was an entirely different story. Sallow, pale skin with touches of grey that made it look like something off of a corpse. Dark blue-grey eyes set above dark shadows that spoke a silent testament to the lack of sleep his body had been receiving. A huge umbrella the size of a staff was strapped to his back, and behind that was a cape that brandished itself, silken shining blue, the outside splattered with black.
He thought for a moment on how to start the conversation, but could think of almost nothing. So he went with just asking her a question he wanted an answer to.
”Are you deadly?”
Shade-Beacon, Master of the Castle of Avarice