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Post by rabastan on Jul 24, 2011 1:28:15 GMT -5
From the entry way, toward the opposite end, Rabastan leaned against the large corridor's walls. He had planted himself just outside of the Great Hall. From an outsider's point of view, his loitering within the hall area might have looked questionable. But it really wasn't, after finishing a meal with a few of his dorm-mates, he had found himself stopping out of the Hall's entrance to let the conversation slowly come to the end. The group slowly dispersed and Rabastan was left alone. Unlike the rest of his friends, he didn't have the courage to pull away from his relaxation time and hit long hours with the books. In fact, he was hoping to catch a glimpse of his elder brother and talk to him about a few things. If it was an easy subject about quidditch, it could have waited until the next morning, but it was bigger: Hogsmeade. Even if there was a veil about what the Lestrange father had said; he felt peculiar and anxious.
Like that letter he had found, explaining to go no where that night and it was signed anonymously. Any normal student would brush it off as a prank, or a threat appointed to the one of the most noble of pure-blood lines. The letter had such urgency, and such a plea to it that it actually did frighten Rabastan. After the attack he hadn't got much of a restful sleep, who was the sender and did his brother receive the same request? Or rather was it possible that his brother was able to take part in it? His right hand shifted over his left arm, as if he was wiping the chill of bad-news hanging to his flesh. When he was alone he didn't feel right; he didn't feel sober. Right now he really wanted to be in company of another person, whether it was a friend or foe.
His dark eyes glistened fearfully for a second, followed by a blink that washed away the last of his doubt – now he had the stare of a predatory lion. Perhaps just coming out from the great hall, it was because of the lithe pale figure – the type of girl who wouldn't look in your direction, mostly because she was blind. Sometimes he ached for this woman to be in his same house, and always thought it a tragedy to hear that a name could tear them apart. Now he had no choice to mess with the girl, simply because her last name was Sinclair. Rabastan probably wouldn't have been interested in Salem if she wasn't a pureblood, or if her god forsaken brother wasn't in the same house on his own; on the same quidditch team and protruding from every sanctum that the Lestrange family had. The Sinclair twins were as strange as they came, one blind as a bat and one who seemed too mentally old to even have a decent conversation with.
Like usual, Salem walked right by Rabastan as if he didn't exist. Now a normal Slytherin would take it in a very personal way, but the youngest Lestrange did not. It was typical, and even predictable. The girl probably ran like clock-work, on a set schedule, on a set path – what would ever happen if she was derailed? There wasn't too much tension between the Sinclair brother and himself, but that empty pit feeling in his stomach due to the events of Hogsmeade needed to be washed away. And right now Salem was his only remedy.
Just like that he fell behind Salem's movements, gaining on quicker, and then to her side. Using his right foot he stuck the tip of his shoe out in front of her path, holding his breath in the process – wondering if she knew what he was up to. Would she trip over him?
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Post by salem on Jul 24, 2011 1:46:32 GMT -5
 Salem Sinclair had been as she always was: antisocial. She took no joy in the discussions at the dining table with her peers. The boys were too reckless and noisy and the girls too obsessed with their appearance and boys. She cared for neither and opted to have her meals alone in silence save for when her brother joined her. However, that was not the case on this particular night. Kyran hadn't came to speak with her, though she suspected she would see him before the night was out. He had a way of intruding at the most unexpected of moments.
If you had asked her to pick the Lestrange brothers out in a crowd, she would have told you she didn't know because she was blind as a fucking bat and couldn't very well see them, now could she? But she knew about them, even if she didn't know who they were personally. The Lestranges were esteemed in the pureblood community, known for their pureblood idealisms and wealth. Rodolphus was the older of the two, and Rabastan was the younger. The only facts she knew were muddied by rumors. Rarely did she ever speak to one, and even then it had only been in very brief passing- though Rabastan was in some of her classes, seeing that Kyran was, too.
Really, though, Salem didn't bother to concern herself all that much with other witches and wizards. Unlike her brother, she hadn't been quizzed on "who's who in the wizarding world". Her parents hadn't spent time with her, practicing and going over who she needs to loathe or to like. Kyran no doubt knew these things, but she also knew he didn't always take their parents advice when it came to the social spectrum. He hadn't been all that sociable at the school, but that was from what she knew- and she knew that he often ate meals with her rather than with others of his house. Either he found her really fascinating (which she doubted), or he was having troubles of his own.
As she was leaving the area, she could feels the presence of someone near her, but she assumed it was another straggler. She was half right. It was Rabastan Lestrange, and he had just stuck his foot out in front of her. Of course, she didn't know that, but her first step missed his foot. It was her second that tripped her and sent her face-planting to the floor. She didn't scream, cry, or yell. Nor did she appear particularly upset. Instead, she began to stand while cautiously feeling around to make sure that she wasn't about to bump into anyone. She may have been good enough to walk around without a cane, but she wasn't super-powered.
 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -TAG - Rabastan
WORDS - 563
SONG - None
MUSE - Great!
NOTES - Sorry it sucks.
CREDIT made by flyy~ [/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by rabastan on Jul 24, 2011 2:09:34 GMT -5
A fact never need be proven, but it was interesting to trample all over one. Rabastan knew Salem Sinclair was blind, of course, that is why he didn't start chuckling at her fall or tell her to 'watch where she was going'. Rather, he allowed her body to teeter before falling forward – there wasn't even a sound, and he quietly wondered if she was deaf as well. He should have felt ashamed for picking on a handicap, but there wasn't an ounce of sympathy. Rabastan knew the only way to get stronger was to get to an ultimate low and pick yourself right back up. Maybe the Sinclair woman had already reached that level, seeing as she didn't cry out or even bother to gasp for air. Perhaps she was a kin to falling. He didn't know why he needed to pick on a helpless girl like this, but he had been utterly annoyed with Kyran – he was hard to work with, never a break in character, the Sinclair male didn't have a sense of humor and it perplexed Rabastan. Sometimes Rab saw Kyran in a gentle light... and it irked him, since it they were supposed to be Slytherins.
Rabastan was aware that Kyran had left them quite often to go sit with his sister, to pamper her or even coddle her. Was she really that type of pitiful person to have her brother come join her? His eyes watched as her hands spread outward, reaching for a source and figure out what she might have fallen over. Instead, Salem was going to just brush it off and get up to her feet again. As she slowly rose to her full height, he moved a little closer again, staring at the side of her face. Although they were twins, he didn't want to picture Kyran as a woman – but he same the feminine mystique that came with the curve of Salem's upper lip, the downward mask of her nose with the way the torches flickered intense lighting to create shadows upon her features. Quickly, he reached out toward Salem and grasped her tiny left wrist. He pulled her harshly in a way to get her to turn toward him, not like it mattered which direction she faced.
He didn't say anything just yet. What would it have been like to sit in the dark, feeling your limbs being pulled around? Although she had tripped and did not feel helpless then; did she feel helpless now? Rabastan didn't really give her time to recover from the fall, so in a way, her arm and weight were most likely learning toward him for support. Why bother? Rabastan wondered this, if it had been his elder brother to lose his eye-sight; he really doubted he would cater to someone's needs like Kyran did with Salem. Nor would he feel too much sympathy, for his elder brother would have been merely an idiot for losing his eye-sight so carelessly. Even if the Lestrange family and Sinclair family worked the same way, Salem was let off the hook just because she was a female. It was pathetic.
Now that he was holding her like this, he could see the trail of her long eye lashes that curved upward. Although he had his own social romances for show, he never really took the time to get close to anyone. He had figured that once the Lestrange brothers had figured out their father's request, his path, then he could think in a selfish perspective. But for now, he was young and he planned on wasting his youth toying with a blind girl. Using his free-hand, he pressed his fingers into the side of the girl's chin before his thumb laced near her throat, forcing her face in a more vertical direction. “Poor little Salem,” he cooed, as if truly disheartened by her condition and yet at the same time it was laced with the heaviest sarcasm.
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Post by salem on Jul 24, 2011 16:35:06 GMT -5
As she was standing, a pair of hands reached out and grabbed her, pulling on her. She complied, but her normal expressionless face wore a scowl. Her dull eyes narrowed as she glared in the direction of the invisible force. She could tell it was a male, unless for some reason this was a very large girl with calloused hands, and the movements were more angular than swift- she may not be able to see his face, but she already knew about him just from his hands.
But he wasn't speaking, so she couldn't be sure of who it was. The glare left her eyes when she realized that this person was not trying to help her up or make sure that she was alright. But it begged the question what did he want with her? It wasn't that she hadn't tripped over people before. Did he not know she was blind, or if he did, did he not care? The thought intrigued her. Most people in her brother's house, even if they were arrogant arses, never bothered with her or considered her handicapped and thus beneath them. The thought made her blood boil... but her current situation was quite different.
They never bothered to mess with her, so the fact she was being treated as any girl who was sorted outside of her destined house should. Perhaps he was a Slytherin, then. She couldn't imagine anyone in another house caring so much about who she was; though there were a few she knew who would mess with someone who would cross them, but she hadn't... she had tripped over someone, and judging by the sounds, the person was walking light enough that they meant for her not to notice.
Then there was a hand cupping he chin and neck, making her stare blankly at the ceiling. She let it, a smile etching across her sharp, Sinclair features. "Practicing to become a puppeteer? You're quite good at it," she said, amusement laced in her voice. She couldn't tell if this person was going to harm her or not, but for now she would play along. It wasn't as if she couldn't defend herself, but she was curious as to what he would do. The voice sounded strangely familiar, though not so much so that she could tell immediately who it was.
"Why, no one's ever told me such a thing. It's not as if being unable to see is a handicap," she almost laughed. The way he mocked her was amusing and a warm relief from all of the sympathy she received. She was quite enjoying herself in this would-be confrontation.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG - Rabastan
WORDS - 545
SONG - None
MUSE - Great!
NOTES - La di da.
CREDIT made by flyy~ [/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by rabastan on Jul 25, 2011 0:13:55 GMT -5
A hint of frustration laced over Salem's once calm face, and Rabastan watched it, searching for more. Now that he had the opportune moment to look over the woman's face, he could certainly see the resemblance between the two Sinclair twins. It was the way the irises were, the curve of the eyelids, and most definitely the cheekbones. But alas, they were far different by body development, as it should be. What was possibly going on through the girl's head right now? It didn't look like she was afraid or nervous, perhaps confused, yes – but what was that, interest? Rabastan had expected some fear, but now he was aware of the bloodline he was dealing with, the same defiance that Kyran might have shown on a quidditch match was something to be seen in this girl's face. It disgusted him, really – and maybe that is why he found himself unintentionally loathing but enjoying the girl's company. Maybe he was just pure evil, amused by picking on a wounded kitten or he was oddly lonesome and only knew being burdensome was the best way to achieve attention.
She was... jesting at her situation, and Rabastan found his muse for the situation slowly draining. Well, he didn't really want to be liked. Perhaps he had bad intentions to start a few fights, the origin being Salem Sinclair. None of the less, if she wasn't going to whine or put up a fight – then, most likely, her brother would never find out about the Lestrange's playful teasing. The moment his hands held her face and she responded was the same moment that he was quick to remove his grasp. Just like that he took a few phantom steps backwards, keeping himself quiet. He noticed her eyes were fixated upwards, and he walked around her in a slight circle. Since her weight was distributed forward from her previous stance, he was now behind Salem. Using his fingers, he pressed them into the girl's spine, hoping that enough pressure from his gesture would end her toppling over again. Rabastan could do this all day, if she ever so chose to bother and get up again.
“I don't feel sorry for you,” Rabastan admitted, “I've heard... many stories of your plight but when it comes down to it; you're merely incapable of defending yourself. With the way you're acting now, I am not sure if it's courage or simply foolishness.” Where had this girl's strength come from? Her brother, her Surname? What was egoism woven into Salem's brain cells. He couldn't, wouldn't imagine himself on the girl's social side – a pureblood tainted by her own incompetency, forced to sit within the shadows of another sibling. Well, he could understand the small feeling that came with having a more gifted sibling... but relying on that family, no, never. He doubted the girl's blindness was magical, he was aware of a single cure that could help – and it was ungifted to the muggles because they were incapable of having that so called special 'gene', save for the few who made it into Hogwarts. Although he knew of it, the special and dangerous means to get it was beyond his knowledge.
He wouldn't let her know, he imagined finding out a cure that no one would give a wizard would probably sound depressing. It would let her know that no one was willing to risk, or sacrifice themselves, just for her. No one loved Salem that much. Unless.... the giver was forced to, just like his Uncle had done to some unsuspecting victim. Truly, this girl was a reject.
Like playing a game of hide-and-seek, he awaited the Sinclair's next move.
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Post by salem on Jul 25, 2011 17:44:05 GMT -5
Salem wondered if the boy always underestimated his opponents. While there was a part of her that was happy he didn't feel sorry for her, there was a bigger part of her that felt annoyance by this boy's automatic assumption that her sight made her somehow weaker or less value than others. She didn't need to read his mind to know so- it was evident in the way he pushed her around, and she was tolerating it if only because she wasn't accustomed to it, and it had been a long while since she had met someone quite like him. If she had thought of herself as weak, she would have pitied him for picking on someone who couldn't defend themselves, but as it was, she knew she was perfectly capable of doing so.
"You're entitled to what you want to believe," she said. It hadn't been her own negligence that had caused her blindness. Her wand was composed of two very dark cores, and the wood with which it had been made was best used with opposite cores. Not doing so would through off the balance it imposed, and when she had cast a more powerful spell with it for the first time, being as unsure as she was, it had backfired. She had been eleven, and the spell had been one she was just learned. It was at no fault of her own, though she couldn't deny that in the time that she had grown to be more reckless because of her lack of sight. Sometimes, her own mortality did not seem all that important.
She did stumble forward, but she didn't completely fall. She had braced herself, on her guard now that she had felt what he was capable of. "You don't give a lot of room for complex emotions, do you?" who was to say that courage and foolishness were the only options? Who was to say that she wasn't stubborn or skilled? Perhaps she was just confidence because she didn't need her sight in order to be a strong witch. People often underestimated her, including her own brother. He was the only one who was able to dote on her without her feeling insulted. And yet, he was also the only person to insult her and get away with it- should he do such a thing.
No one, not even the teachers thought she was strong enough to stand on her own two feet. Her wandless magic was at its best. Her knowledge of ancient curses could rival that of a cursebreaker already employed by the ministry. She may have fallen into her own traps before, but she was by no means weak or a coward. She didn't reach for her wand, only tensed her hand at her side. If he came at her again, she wouldn't hesitate to throw a hex at him to prove a point. Salem Sinclair was not naturally a violent person, and she did not often confront others, choosing instead to ignore them, but there was something about this boy that grated on her nerves.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - TAG - Rabastan
WORDS - 631
SONG - None
MUSE - Great!
NOTES - La di da.
CREDIT made by flyy~ [/size][/blockquote] |
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Post by rabastan on Jul 26, 2011 2:39:23 GMT -5
Rabastan noticed the way she guarded herself from his next prodding. Not only was she starting to defend herself, he could hear the slight agitation in her choice of words – he didn't even need the cunning of tones to detect how his misconception was bothering her. “Humor me then, Sinclair,” Rabastan's eyes shifted to her figure and he moved around her so that he could stand right in-front of her. Right now he decided he would treat her as if a human-being, not some type of tipsy idiot who had no idea how walking worked. “If I am so entitled to believe how I wish, then what is that I hear – annoyance, sarcasm? What is it, Salem? I'd really like to know. Don't expect anyone to see you in a clear, conscience perspective if you can't wash your face out from a crowd.” Now he could only assume that she enjoyed her lonely escapades through the school, that she was the type of person who didn't need anyone 'around' because it would better herself, strengthen her for the harsh reality of the world.
But she was wrong. If she curled up and washed away now, to become that phantom amongst the outspoken faces of Hogwarts, then she would very well end up as a hermit, or somewhere even worse. Her aura was strong, and it was a presence he had to take caution of. Rabastan sensed that there was a fed-up monster that slumbered within the girl, and if he pressed her buttons just enough; she would snap and show whatever dangerous complicated fiend she had managed to hide. Although he had the mouth of a fool, he made certain that he wouldn't give his theory away. “I am amazed you let your reputation wither away this much already. You could start off by sharing some of yourself, for a change,” and his eyes narrowed to slits, watching her as if a predator. Or was she going to be like Kyran, and be just as secretive?
He just couldn't get it, how could the two be twins? Kyran was an impeccable young man and the girl was a bumbling idiot in his books, but as for her uncanny attitude for life, he suspected there was something just as frighteningly beautiful about her. After all, she wasn't an eye-sore, she had those certain small curves – that hourglass shape, and those dark eyes that glistened when the torches just touched her irises right. But it was her odd personality, her loner-ish attitude that mostly sent Hogwarts students away. Only first-years were stupid and ignorant enough to flirt with Salem, especially with that lurking brother that she had tagging along.
Rabastan turned now, with that thought. He was half-expecting the Slytherin Sinclair to pop out of no where, as if conjured by Salem's confrontation. There was no one, aside from a few stragglers who caste their eyes curiously between Lestrange and Sinclair. But as soon as Rabastan glared, the students shrugged it off, knowing it was best not to get involved. When silence came back through the halls, he whirled and gaped at the girl's next choice of words. “Complex emotions?” it had humored him, and it was graced by a low mumbling of laughter from Rabastan. He was a male, not meant to be harbored or close to 'emotions'. But he wasn't an alien, he had a great amount of experience of what emotions had to offer... jealousy, envy, even loathing. “Tell me, explain to me what I should be understanding... you can only throw so many statements and questions at me, but they won't be enough to get me to leave you. So far, even as stale as you are, have yet to bore me.”
He had wanted to prod at her more, not because he had felt the need to watch her stumble. There was something insanely weird about being around Salem's presence, and if he didn't know any better, he may as well be carrying out some personal vendetta that he had yet to finish with Kyran: and it could all be quenched by Salem alone.
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