|
|
Post by ring_junkie on May 21, 2006 8:15:08 GMT -5
Salvador lay in the middle of his four-poster bed, stretched out on his back in his dark sea-green, tartan pyjama trousers, looking up at the hangings which obscured the ceiling from his view. Turning over, he lay on his side and closed his eyes, trying to get to sleep, but he couldn't; and hadn't been able to since he had woken up two hours ago at seven minutes past one in the morning, which meant he had only had about an hour's sleep. After a few moments, his eyes opened again, narrowing at the hangings in front of him. He hated this. A hand reached through the hangings and fumbled for the clock that stood on his bedside table on the other side. Finding it, he brought it inside and took his wand out from under his pillow, non-verbally using 'lumos' so that he could read the time, squinting against the light. It was almost exactly as he had thought - twenty-five past three. Throwing the covers off himself, he sat up and pulled the hangings silently aside - so as not to wake any of the others in his dormitory who had been so lucky as to fall asleep - then put the clock back and reached for his dressing-gown, which was hanging on one of the end posts of his bed. Pulling it on and putting his wand in his pocket - he never went anywhere without it - he made his way out of the door and down the spiral staircase, trying not to look at his reflection in the mirror as he passed; his hair was not the tidiest it had ever been. The end of his richly maroon-coloured dressing-gown trailed along the stairs behind him, and, upon reaching the bottom, he wrapped it around himself, grateful of the warmth. He sat down on one of the sofas, igniting the nearest lamp with his wand, and picked up the book he had started to read earlier, giving a small sigh. |
|
|
|
Post by Macaria Riddle on May 22, 2006 21:57:16 GMT -5
The littlest Riddle lie in her bed, unmoving while the other first year girls slept. She didn't know what was keeping her awake, or what had been keeping her awake these past couple of days, but sleep had seemed to escape her. It was like a distant memory, something she couldn't quite picture anymore. Rolling over to her right side, she watched as a girl snorred quite loudly, and rolled her eyes. Sitting up in her bed, she looked around the blackened room and and listened to the sounds of the room. The breathing of her housemates, the dripping of condensation from the walls to the floor, the smallest noises from deep within the dungeons that made you wonder where they were coming from, and who exactly was making them - all of these things intrigued her to the point where she found herself rising from her bed and walking down the steps from the girls dormitories and into the common room.
It was there that she saw an older Slytherin sitting on one of the sofas and reading a book. She was tempted to run back up to her room, as she was in her white nightgown, but something about his presence made her stay glued to the ground below her. Tilting her head, she walked toward him and looked over the couch onto the pages he was reading, curiosity filling her blue-gray eyes. "What are you reading?" She asked, quietly, hoping not to disturb him too much.
|
|
|
|
Post by ring_junkie on May 23, 2006 16:21:05 GMT -5
Salvador's storm-grey eyes flicked up, away from the book and onto the small figure of the girl standing behind him, and he turned his head a little in order to see her better. He wondered how long she had been standing there for before she had asked her question, finding it odd that he hadn't noticed her before-hand. Perhaps he had been too engrossed in the written word to be paying much attention elsewhere.
Turning the book around so that she might view the cover, he looked back down at it. "The Picture of Dorian Gray," he replied softly, tracing a long finger down the book's spine. It was a very old, hardback copy, and there were places in the text where variations in the print gave its age away. Printed in 1891, or so it said on the very first page, it was probably a member of the very first edition of Oscar Wilde's only novel. Salvador had found it and started reading it a while ago, at the back of a decrepit muggle book shop that had been closing down, but certain things - like school-work, and Contessa, and the Dark Lord - had prevented him from finishing it. He was intrigued by the idea of an aging portrait in the place of an aging body, and the more he thought about it, the more he was attracted to it, despite the tragic events that panned out in Dorian Gray's story. It would be a little like having a horcrux, in a way...
Salvador wondered if the little first-year girl, like him, suffered from insomnia whilst at school. There was something strange about her; something lurking just below the surface, but he didn't know what. She could have been a Malfoy, but there was a certain sort of power emanating from her that he knew no Malfoy would ever, could ever possess.
"I suppose you couldn't sleep...?" he inquired quietly, though it was more of a statement than a question; after all, why else, really, would she be down in the common room?
|
|
|
|
Post by Macaria Riddle on May 23, 2006 17:09:22 GMT -5
As the elder Slytherin turned to her, she noticed something very familiar in his gray eyes, as if she'd seen them before. She found herself staring, and instantly looked away, eyes darting down to the words on the page. Based on the condition of the pages, she guessed it was an old book. The pages were starting to turn a yellowish colour, and they seemed stiff and ready to tear at any second. She noticed that the spine of the book had a long white line going down the middle, showing it had been read many times in its life. Must be a good book. Sighing, she came around the couch and sat down next to him, unable to understand why she felt a sort of closeness, or comfort, around him. Maybe it was the presence of an older man, other than her brother, that comforted her. Remember that small fact that she didn't really have a father? Yes, well, growing up without one made Macaria latch onto any elder male - which usually ended up being Riyan.
"The Picture of Dorian Gray."
Nodding, she yawned and stared into the fire, almost hypnotized by its dance. To say that she was tired would be an understatement, though she didn't sleep easily these days. There was something keeping her awake, and it was harder to understand why. At first, she knew exactly why ... but the lack of sleep and the constant eating at what could be the reason had all but sent the very source out of her memory. Maybe it was a nightmare she'd had ... or the impending battle tthat was looming on her future?
"I suppose you couldn't sleep...?"
Shaking her head, she hugged her knees and rested her chin on them, eyes still attached to the fire. "No ... I haven't slept for a couple of days, now. Not sure why. My name is Macaria, what's yours?" She asked, turning her head to meet his captivating gray eyes once more.
|
|
|
|
Post by ring_junkie on May 24, 2006 7:41:07 GMT -5
Raising a hand to his face, he brushed his deep ebony-black hair out of his eye, heaving a deep sigh to save himself from having to yawn after she did; his hand proceeded around to the back of his head, and attempted to comb his hair flat, out of the 'mess' - or so it seemed to him - it had been made into by lying restless in bed. As his hand dropped back to his side, he looked over at Macaria, the name being infinitely more than just a name to him. So she was the daughter of the Dark Lord... this small, frail-looking little girl was the child of the greatest sorceror who ever lived... He could see it, almost feel it. He did not need to ask any further. She was Tom Riddle's daughter; she was his cousin. But should he let her know who he was? One of the three Riddles chosen by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself to bring power back to the noble line.
"Salvador," he replied softly, not saying either of his last names, and looked straight back at her. Though she was only young, there was something in those blue eyes of hers that gave her a maturity beyond her years.
|
|
