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Post by KYRAN ALDRIC SINCLAIR on Jun 28, 2011 2:01:12 GMT -5
“Off-season” or bad-weather had always meant that astronomy class would be moved to a different classroom since students would report getting terribly sick from sitting in the cool weather, or from even being rained upon. Tonight the stars and moon were merely covered by whopping grey clouds. Kyran had a plethora of assignments to get done, and while there were many empty classrooms available; he did not want to risk being caught by one of the patrols. As a Prefect he had even a bigger image to uphold, which made his life quite difficult. The desk nearest to the entrance was covered with a pile of books while excess parchments laid upon the neighboring desk. Kyran could have taken up the whole room if he wanted to, that is how he saw his life heading. He couldn't see his future like this: stuck in a room, working on data.
If he couldn't get a hold of some type of fortune, he would be doing just that, stuck as a nobody reviewing cases in a dinky office. Beneath the haze of the clouds and the only light coming from the lit candles displayed around the room, above the desk he had his items was a floating lantern. However, Kyran wasn't working just yet. He was standing in the middle of the astronomy tower, his head craned backward to stare at the subtle hint that brimmed from a lone star. The only stare to escape, but soon after that star would be accompanied – soon that burden would wash away. It was all a matter of perspective, the cloud would realistically move in no time and splay the canvas that the moon had to offer. But he didn't want to see it that way, Kyran felt cryptic tonight.
Alone like this, life was at its heaviest. He felt troubled by everything and everyone, and the saddest part was the only escape was murder or suicide. Neither had the results that Kyran desired, the solution to perfect everything that was his name: Sinclair. Damn his family, damn this place, he really despised everything. Lowering his chin he moved quickly to go back to his mind-numbing work. Slipping into the chair in front of the desk, he stared downward at the open book and began to read. Sentences started to devour each other, and he couldn't find himself to translate the words coherently. Nothing wanted to make sense – he felt like he would do something he would regret.
His right hand reached for the quill, lifting it with his index and middle finger to twirl the sharp end so it was facing the wood of the desk. Kyran moved his left hand closer to the paper, the look in his eyes fierce, unexplainable. It all happened in a blur, as if he was full of some type of blood lust that couldn't be quenched. Bringing his right hand down without even a flinch, he jabbed the tip of the sharp quill into the flesh near to the edge of his thumb. He felt it – or rather he thought he felt – the metal etch at his bone, cutting the paper-pale flesh, causing a bubble of dark crimson to rise. It was his ink, or his life, but he did not move further beyond that.
In fact, he was surprised at himself.
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Post by anastasiya on Jun 29, 2011 0:56:25 GMT -5
 A simple, quiet evening had been all Stasiya had been planning. But the Slytherin common room had been invaded by a group of student who seemed rather upset and distraught. From what she could tell, one of the girls had just gotten broken up with by her boyfriend, and when she had gone to hex him, it backfired on her. Really, it served her right for letting her emotions rule her life in the first place. Stasiya had no pity for those who brought misery on themselves.
While the whole scene had been rather entertaining at first, she had quickly grown tired of the crying and declarations that they would "get him back." Seeing with the disgrace the girl was showing herself with, she couldn't really blame whoever the boy had been for wanting to end a relationship with her. Then again, she didn't know why he would have wanted to start one in the first place. It was always ideal to get to know a person as thoroughly as possible before even beginning to consider mating with them. But not everyone shared her values.
But she had learned to accept that a long time ago, and it didn't bother her in the least. She was above it all- the less emotion one carried themselves with, the better. To be on your own and not dependent on others for happiness was the only way she knew how to be. How proud her parents would be if they could see her now-- no, not really. She knew exactly what her parents thought of her from her freakishly pale appearance and ruby eyes to her nonchalance of the human existence. They had hoped to instill their daughter with some sort of human emotion: hatred towards muggleborns, loyalty to purebloods, a sense of unity with her family; but it never seemed to sink in. Even when receiving news of their disappearance, she hadn't batted an eye. She knew that one day her parents' mistakes would catch up to them.
She vowed she would never find herself in that situation, no matter what it took to secure herself.
Her heels clicked against the marble stone, and she took in her surroundings. How odd; she had found herself in the astronomy tower, though she had no reason to be there- the fresh air was certainly a pleasant change from the closed off dungeons of Slytherin, but she hadn't intended it as her destination. Then again, she hadn't had a destination at all.
Stasiya's red eyes flickered over to a boy, sitting at a table with a quill in his hand. He was one of the prefects- one of her house mates. Kyran Sinclair. His sister was Salem Sinclair- a blind Ravenclaw girl. She knew of the Sinclair family due to their status in the pureblood community; although, rumors were beginning to circulate that things weren't as they seemed. She wondered if pressure might be getting to their eldest and only son- he seemed quite enraptured with his hand- and from her distance, she could not see the small red dot of blood rise from his flesh.
"Contemplating death all ready?" she decided to make her presence known. Usually, she would have been content to sit back and just watch with fascination- to learn something new about a person she had rarely spoken to. However, tonight she decided a different approach was in order. Who was Kyran Sinclair truly?
 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -TAG - Kyran
WORDS - 669
SONG - Vanessa Mae - Devil's Trill
MUSE - Tired@@
NOTES - >_> I tried. She's strange.
CREDIT made by flyy~ [/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by KYRAN ALDRIC SINCLAIR on Jun 30, 2011 1:15:41 GMT -5
Someone who had intentionally hurt themselves out of misery would have immediately looked guilty. Although the girl had inquired of Kyran first, it was he who took notice of her before she even bothered to open her mouth. His eyes looked dark beneath the canopy of candle light, as if he was violent and ready to verbally attack the female upon her very words. Yet, the only thing he gave the other Slytherin was a slight crane of his head, his gaze shifting from the girl's head of hair down to the edge of her robes. He didn't know why he had the canny ability to run into the Slytherin females upon the oddest times, first Fala had caught him napping while Anastasiya had barged on him harming himself. Not that he had done it to break himself in, nor he had even literally snapped or had the thought of suicide tumbled through his already busy thought process.
The quill that was within his fingers, well, he placed it upon the desk very casually. For someone who had just drove a piece of metal through their own skin, Kyran looked surprisingly calm. He didn't wish for the female to find him in this state, knowing that the whisper of the cool wind would cause severe pain every time it brushed over his newly open wound. The book before him, it had secrets. Even before attending to himself he reached his hand forward, using his fingers to close the cover – for extra measures, he flipped the book upside down. Whatever he had been reading possibly caused him to harm himself, or he had been merely following instructions. Kyran simply didn't do things without a good reason, especially tasks that required his own blood.
From his movement, the dot of red was now growing, turning into rivers of crimson that ran down the bone of his thumb, down his wrist, his arm, only now the stream was lost due to the fact that his arm was covered by the sleeve of his robe. “I highly doubt a quill could bring death so easily, and although it would intriguing to go out in such a masochistic way; a death that way would be without glory. I am sure you're just curious, or have showed up to jest, so I won't elaborate. You probably know what I'm trying to explain, anyways,” Kyran's words were very formal, almost eerily polite. He had an insane track record for all of the peers within the Slytherin house, and he didn't want to tread upon Ana's bad side. Her reputation, her family's, they all suited the Sinclair family.
If there was an individual who looked like a serpent, it would be this Head Girl. Her eyes were as red as the very blood that escaped Kyran's wound now, and her face was eerily pale as if a dementor had just passed by. He didn't need an explanation as to why she was up here, whatever her reasons would not affect his plans for the night. Not once had Ana sought out Kyran's presence or company, so it would have been out of the norm to even start now. Whatever she did was out of her own personal gain and Kyran could respect her silence.
He had done his good deed and answered her, if it was anyone else they would only receive silence and a glare, maybe even an insult. But now that he had obliged to the female's presence, he turned his eyes to his own wound and used to end of his right sleeve to place it over the dot of red, applying pressure so no more would come out. Perhaps the girl's presence was what he needed, a breather, allowing himself to not see all of his burdens and listen to her words instead. That is, if she decided to stay. Kyran felt his invitation wouldn't be worth her time, it would weigh on her interests alone.
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Post by anastasiya on Jul 15, 2011 17:39:37 GMT -5
His words held no particular interest to her on the surface. His invitation for her to stay would not seem worth her time in normal circumstances. But these were not quite such the case. Stasiya stayed close to the doorway, claiming it for her own. No one would be getting in or out until she had deemed it was time for their little meeting to end.
She left the subject of his death behind her. The topic had quickly grown stale, and she could not be bothered to pursue a dead end. She was not in this for mind tricks or fun and games. His reaction had given her all she needed to know about him. Quick to defend his actions, ever serious without even a hint of mischief. It was quite a sad sight to behold: a boy whose childhood had never fully blossomed. So cynical of the world already. But who was she to judge? It wasn't as if she had been given the opportunity to have a childhood either.
"Your sister... how is she?" It seemed that her new subject of interest was one Salem Sinclair. It was true that she could have just as easily observed the girl on her own, but she wasn't interested in Salem so much as she was interested in what Kyran had to say about her. Would he lie? Would he be truthful? Was he involved in his sister's livelihood? Or was he simply going to avoid the question? All of that remained to be seen. She could not read his mind...
Well, no. That was a lie. She was a practicing legilimens, but that did not mean that she had the desire to use it to make enemies. To pry information deeply within the subconscious, it would most certainly be noticeable and even painful for the one having their thoughts invaded. But to pry the information from within with words. Well, there was no harm in that. It would not be her magical ability that would bring her the information she sought but rather her own ability as a person to read within one's answer.
It was a useful ability, perhaps not noble, but it would allow her whom she could ignore, whom she could favor, and whom she could not afford to be weak or misread around.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG - Kyran
WORDS - 489
SONG - Vanessa Mae - Devil's Trill
MUSE - Tired@@
NOTES - >_> I tried. She's strange.
CREDIT made by flyy~ [/size][/blockquote] |
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