Post by Rosaliz Hernandez G6 on Apr 23, 2008 3:08:02 GMT
Standing in the Entrance Hall, ebony handle of a suitcase within her bony fingers, a fourth year Gryffindor girl moved the black veil away from her face, revealing her ethereal stony physiognomy. Her metallic blue gray eyes bore into anything and everything, seeing past the dainty façades of both people and objects alike. It had been quite a weary weekend - straight after receiving a letter from her abhorrent cousin, letting her know that her dear sweet uncle had passed away. Naturally, "dear" and "sweet" were not the adjectives Rosaliz would have chosen to describe her uncle but she was expected at the funeral. The next morning, services were held: a simple burial located within the private Hernandez graveyard, dozens of cold headstones marking Rosaliz's ancestors including her mother and father, marking them as "renowned" and "of an undeniably remarkable nature." To Rosaliz, these were just words to fluff up and raise the Hernandez pedestal even higher than it already stood. Who knew what her ancestors were really made of? Rosaliz, naturally did not trust anybody any more, even if they shared the same blood as her. The services took the entirety of the day and, of course, her cousin insisted that Rosaliz stay at there household for the night.
There, she commenced to lay in what she expected of Rosaliz now that her uncle had passed on. Although Rosaliz knew very well how much of a control freak they all were, it seemed that her domineering power over her was only going to intensify. The women would not let Rosaliz depart back to school until Sunday evening, which explained why she was within the Entrance Hall at approximately half past eight that night. Smoothing down the front of her ebony dress absently, Rosaliz threw an apathetic glance all around her, sharpened senses taking in everything surrounding her. No changes, of course, none at all . . . why would there be? Rosaliz, of course, always thought the worst of everything and had prepared herself to see something equivalent to a raging war within the walls of Hogwarts. It had happened before, no? Picking up her high-heeled left foot, Rosaliz clicked across the wide-ceilinged Entrance Hall, the sound of her heels echoing in the vast size of the room. Cursing the shoes, for they were pinching her toes excruciatingly, the Gryffie made her way through the gaping hole that led down to the basement. Her home? Rosaliz was not sure what she considered home at the moment; it certainly wasn't Stonybrook Heights, the innocuous-sounding name her father had given the Hernandez household.
Her feet made their way down the stone steps, shoes making a solid sound against the hard surface. Wondering why she was not provided with other clothes, the Gryffindor made her way down the hallway, toward the common room. It took much longer than usual, what with the slowdown of her cursed shoes, but she eventually crossed the threshold into a room very reminiscent of Stonybrook. Moving towards the -flamed fireplace, Rosaliz sat down upon a couch and took off the shoes, feeling her raw feet flex as soon as they were released from the torture Rosaliz had put them through. Her black stockings were cut with holes and small tears from the shoes, dried red substance covering up the ghostly hue of Rosaliz's skin. Bloody Merlin, she had gotten exterior injuries from the damn shoes. Knowing that she would eventually have to go up and do something about the clothes and cuts, the Gryffindor looked into the flames before her, reminiscing about the events of the past few days. Rosaliz felt no sorrow or sympathy for her uncle's passing; the man had played no role in her life and her weakness was something Rosaliz looked down upon. Therefore, this night was just like any other for her, save for the current condition of her feet. Hearing a sound come from behind, Rosaliz's ebony head turned around quickly, hand upon the wood of her wand within her pocket.
After she had snapped her head around, paranoid as ever, Rosaliz took in the person who had been over her shoulder for Merlin knew how long. It was a girl, one Rosaliz was quite certain she had never seen previously. The first thing she noted about her was his eyes - they looked as though they were chipped out of ice, they were so cold and it seemed as though nothing could penetrate past them. Otherwise, everything else about the girl, who looked to be somewhere around her own age, was rather dark. A frown of sorts played across her lips; Rosaliz did not know whether it was because of her behavior or if she always appeared as such. As an overall first impression, Rosaliz saw this one as aloof but with a definite self-assurance all-too common to the Gryffindor House. The only question was - did she actually live up to this presence? Rosaliz had found in her four years at Hogwarts that many who were within her own House were foolish and quite idiotic, although they themselves seemed to think they were something important. Rosaliz herself liked to think she was of a dignified nature, living a life within Hogwarts independent and no strings attached to anyone. It was much better this way, both for herself and others. Besides, did not smother and suffocate anyone when she was away from the castle?
Keeping her own expression stone-like and unmoving, Rosaliz’s eyes met the ice-blue ones of her counterpart, wondering just what her intentions were. Had she been in the room the entire time? Rosaliz had very astute senses; she surely would have been her, no?
"Have I disturbed you?"
The girl seemed sincere enough yet she struck Rosaliz as completely uncaring as to what the answer might be. It was quite probable that she was one of those types who spoke eloquently because of an upbringing or some other reason. Rosaliz found herself understanding mannerisms, although she by no means epitomized this behavior all of the time. It simply depended on the scenario and person she was currently speaking to. Having no prior knowledge of this unfamiliar one, Rosaliz knew it was best to remain suspicious. Rosaliz did not try to behave in such a mundane manner; it was simply the way she was. Turning her neck away from the slightly uncomfortable angle it was currently at, Rosaliz glanced into the fireplace before slipping on her previously deserted shoes, feeling the monsters claw at her raw feet. Making no wince or expression of discomfort, Rosaliz stood up and crossed the room, selecting a chair she typically occupied. Her changed seating position was simply for her own paranoid purposes; where she currently sat, she could view the entire room. Too much was behind her when she was placed on the couch.
Observing the dark-haired girl, Rosaliz continued to note traits that she let off about herself, as analyzing a person's character was the wisest thing a person could do upon meeting another for the first time. Any meeting, really, for it could never be deduced when a person would change their mind or personality. Her confident and assured manner continued to stand out as dominating traits in her persona; nothing would ruffle or haggle this one, it seemed. Did this mean she was one of many within the Gryffindor House that sought out power and superiority? Perhaps. It certainly fit the bill Rosaliz had developed for her general first impression of her; besides, these days, nobody was able to resist the sweet seduction of total dominance. Rosaliz herself was one who desired this above all else, although she kept it tucked away quietly, folded behind her stone physiognomy and body language. Nobody need know her true intents; it was the duty of a fool to parade about, letting the entire world know how they would end up on top someday. The Gryffie knew that morons such as those would end up as nothing more than scum-ridden bottom feeders, succumbed to kiss the feet of somebody much wiser and intelligent than their pitiful existence.
Plainly, there was a sense of discomfort or disgust when it came to her parentage; perhaps it was reminiscent of Rosaliz's own feelings toward her own guardians. Parents, she could hardly call them, for one had never been within her life. The other was Rosaliz's tyrannical puppeteer, strings bitingly attached between herself and the despicable man. Showing no feeling or emotion on her face, Rosaliz gave a short solemn nod, “You are excused I wish to be alone." At these spoken words, the dark-haired, eloquent girl stood staring creepily at Rosaliz.
Rosaliz. knew that stowing away true intents, the core of the mystery she placed before everybody's eyes, was a very difficult occupation. People were instantly curious about her vague and withdrawn mannerisms, as though they knew what her underlying purpose in life was. Granted, she did not think anybody really and truly had a clue, except for perhaps one or two sharper minds, but it was always wise to remain cautious and unassuming. Therefore, whenever she looked somebody in the eyes to decipher information about them, she had to ensure that it was not a blunt or obtrusive stare. If it were, people would get ideas about her character; they would see her as an intruding, intervening person. Rosaliz did not particularly like that, as it would make people even more suspicious in her eyes. She was not seeking trust from anybody but she wanted to cleverly disguise what lay hidden beneath. People could assume she was the offspring of some Dark witch or wizard, they could deduct she was going to go on a murdering rampage any day now . . . any sort of wild fantasy that fit the mold people set up for her was perfectly acceptable for Rosaliz. Why? Because they were based purely on whims and such foolish acts were never threats to her. They could circulate for eternity and Rosaliz would continue to be unruffled.
Rosaliz was not sure but it was a bit hard to imagine that somebody could follow the same life as she, chains bound to every inch of her body, pulled by the domineering hand of her aunt. After five minutes of this completely odd stare the girl bowed her head. Such manner was casual, calm, relaxed but Rosaliz was still sitting with a straight spine against her wood-carved chair. She did not look uncomfortable or awkward; simply well-postured and a bit closed off with body language. Well. She would see how accurate that notion was in time. Rosaliz had already been drilled twenty thousand times that trust neither was to be given to nobody, nor should she inform anybody about her Dark Arts family. Rosaliz was finding that she cared less and less. She was disgraced by the whole lot of them, simply because they held a power over her, a spell that was seemingly unbreakable. One day, however, she would be released from this control, able to break away as an independent person. Once the girl had left the room, Rosaliz decided that she needed a small stroll around the grounds. This weird encounter with the girl had set her mind into thinking mood. Which was not good….
Rosaliz had taken to walking about the corridors on her off hours as well. It was a way for the she could recollect her thoughts, for she had such little time for intrinsic reflection or thorough examination of the mind. Indeed, Rosaliz thought self-examination was a particular waste of time but she did need time to sort out her thoughts instead of being thrusted into one thing or another. Looking straight ahead, Rosaliz walked through the corridors. She was, as usual, thinking about strategies could overcome their personal weaknesses and make them a terrific force against other people. Although Roaliz had her own biases against the other Houses, she knew that it was better to assume they were all had their problems. Rosaliz continued on in her tread through the castle corridors, the sky outside was now pitch black. It was mid-night already? Rosaliz had a tendency to wander round the corridors at night and lost all senses of time.
Rosaliz pulled out her wand from the depths of her robe pocket and spun it lazily, the all-too familiar swishing sound cutting against the wind, protruding into the stillness. One could say that Rosaliz was more than a little paranoid and the idea that somebody ready to duel her would step out from every corner caused the sharp Gryffie to keep her eyes peeled for any suspicious movement. People were strangers and strangers were the unknown. Rosaliz despised the unknown as it left her vulnerable and susceptible to the grasp of anybody who wanted to maim and torture her. Rosaliz could not stand people detriming her and she had already made it a point to see that girl again With this thought, Rosaliz felt her feet trip over something or somebody on the ground. Feeling annoyance, Rosaliz turned around and faced the thing or person, her eyes traversing to the ground. "Must you be so dense or is not paying attention an accepted behavior of anal idiots who sit in the middle of random corridors?" she asked, her tone cold, her face unmoving from its statuesque composure. finding this completly amusing, she smirked. But then to her dissapointment....she found it was just an old book. She was really hopeing it was somebody except that odd dark haired girl...Frowning in dissapointment, Rosaliz continued walking the empty halls of Hogwarts.
There, she commenced to lay in what she expected of Rosaliz now that her uncle had passed on. Although Rosaliz knew very well how much of a control freak they all were, it seemed that her domineering power over her was only going to intensify. The women would not let Rosaliz depart back to school until Sunday evening, which explained why she was within the Entrance Hall at approximately half past eight that night. Smoothing down the front of her ebony dress absently, Rosaliz threw an apathetic glance all around her, sharpened senses taking in everything surrounding her. No changes, of course, none at all . . . why would there be? Rosaliz, of course, always thought the worst of everything and had prepared herself to see something equivalent to a raging war within the walls of Hogwarts. It had happened before, no? Picking up her high-heeled left foot, Rosaliz clicked across the wide-ceilinged Entrance Hall, the sound of her heels echoing in the vast size of the room. Cursing the shoes, for they were pinching her toes excruciatingly, the Gryffie made her way through the gaping hole that led down to the basement. Her home? Rosaliz was not sure what she considered home at the moment; it certainly wasn't Stonybrook Heights, the innocuous-sounding name her father had given the Hernandez household.
Her feet made their way down the stone steps, shoes making a solid sound against the hard surface. Wondering why she was not provided with other clothes, the Gryffindor made her way down the hallway, toward the common room. It took much longer than usual, what with the slowdown of her cursed shoes, but she eventually crossed the threshold into a room very reminiscent of Stonybrook. Moving towards the -flamed fireplace, Rosaliz sat down upon a couch and took off the shoes, feeling her raw feet flex as soon as they were released from the torture Rosaliz had put them through. Her black stockings were cut with holes and small tears from the shoes, dried red substance covering up the ghostly hue of Rosaliz's skin. Bloody Merlin, she had gotten exterior injuries from the damn shoes. Knowing that she would eventually have to go up and do something about the clothes and cuts, the Gryffindor looked into the flames before her, reminiscing about the events of the past few days. Rosaliz felt no sorrow or sympathy for her uncle's passing; the man had played no role in her life and her weakness was something Rosaliz looked down upon. Therefore, this night was just like any other for her, save for the current condition of her feet. Hearing a sound come from behind, Rosaliz's ebony head turned around quickly, hand upon the wood of her wand within her pocket.
After she had snapped her head around, paranoid as ever, Rosaliz took in the person who had been over her shoulder for Merlin knew how long. It was a girl, one Rosaliz was quite certain she had never seen previously. The first thing she noted about her was his eyes - they looked as though they were chipped out of ice, they were so cold and it seemed as though nothing could penetrate past them. Otherwise, everything else about the girl, who looked to be somewhere around her own age, was rather dark. A frown of sorts played across her lips; Rosaliz did not know whether it was because of her behavior or if she always appeared as such. As an overall first impression, Rosaliz saw this one as aloof but with a definite self-assurance all-too common to the Gryffindor House. The only question was - did she actually live up to this presence? Rosaliz had found in her four years at Hogwarts that many who were within her own House were foolish and quite idiotic, although they themselves seemed to think they were something important. Rosaliz herself liked to think she was of a dignified nature, living a life within Hogwarts independent and no strings attached to anyone. It was much better this way, both for herself and others. Besides, did not smother and suffocate anyone when she was away from the castle?
Keeping her own expression stone-like and unmoving, Rosaliz’s eyes met the ice-blue ones of her counterpart, wondering just what her intentions were. Had she been in the room the entire time? Rosaliz had very astute senses; she surely would have been her, no?
"Have I disturbed you?"
The girl seemed sincere enough yet she struck Rosaliz as completely uncaring as to what the answer might be. It was quite probable that she was one of those types who spoke eloquently because of an upbringing or some other reason. Rosaliz found herself understanding mannerisms, although she by no means epitomized this behavior all of the time. It simply depended on the scenario and person she was currently speaking to. Having no prior knowledge of this unfamiliar one, Rosaliz knew it was best to remain suspicious. Rosaliz did not try to behave in such a mundane manner; it was simply the way she was. Turning her neck away from the slightly uncomfortable angle it was currently at, Rosaliz glanced into the fireplace before slipping on her previously deserted shoes, feeling the monsters claw at her raw feet. Making no wince or expression of discomfort, Rosaliz stood up and crossed the room, selecting a chair she typically occupied. Her changed seating position was simply for her own paranoid purposes; where she currently sat, she could view the entire room. Too much was behind her when she was placed on the couch.
Observing the dark-haired girl, Rosaliz continued to note traits that she let off about herself, as analyzing a person's character was the wisest thing a person could do upon meeting another for the first time. Any meeting, really, for it could never be deduced when a person would change their mind or personality. Her confident and assured manner continued to stand out as dominating traits in her persona; nothing would ruffle or haggle this one, it seemed. Did this mean she was one of many within the Gryffindor House that sought out power and superiority? Perhaps. It certainly fit the bill Rosaliz had developed for her general first impression of her; besides, these days, nobody was able to resist the sweet seduction of total dominance. Rosaliz herself was one who desired this above all else, although she kept it tucked away quietly, folded behind her stone physiognomy and body language. Nobody need know her true intents; it was the duty of a fool to parade about, letting the entire world know how they would end up on top someday. The Gryffie knew that morons such as those would end up as nothing more than scum-ridden bottom feeders, succumbed to kiss the feet of somebody much wiser and intelligent than their pitiful existence.
Plainly, there was a sense of discomfort or disgust when it came to her parentage; perhaps it was reminiscent of Rosaliz's own feelings toward her own guardians. Parents, she could hardly call them, for one had never been within her life. The other was Rosaliz's tyrannical puppeteer, strings bitingly attached between herself and the despicable man. Showing no feeling or emotion on her face, Rosaliz gave a short solemn nod, “You are excused I wish to be alone." At these spoken words, the dark-haired, eloquent girl stood staring creepily at Rosaliz.
Rosaliz. knew that stowing away true intents, the core of the mystery she placed before everybody's eyes, was a very difficult occupation. People were instantly curious about her vague and withdrawn mannerisms, as though they knew what her underlying purpose in life was. Granted, she did not think anybody really and truly had a clue, except for perhaps one or two sharper minds, but it was always wise to remain cautious and unassuming. Therefore, whenever she looked somebody in the eyes to decipher information about them, she had to ensure that it was not a blunt or obtrusive stare. If it were, people would get ideas about her character; they would see her as an intruding, intervening person. Rosaliz did not particularly like that, as it would make people even more suspicious in her eyes. She was not seeking trust from anybody but she wanted to cleverly disguise what lay hidden beneath. People could assume she was the offspring of some Dark witch or wizard, they could deduct she was going to go on a murdering rampage any day now . . . any sort of wild fantasy that fit the mold people set up for her was perfectly acceptable for Rosaliz. Why? Because they were based purely on whims and such foolish acts were never threats to her. They could circulate for eternity and Rosaliz would continue to be unruffled.
Rosaliz was not sure but it was a bit hard to imagine that somebody could follow the same life as she, chains bound to every inch of her body, pulled by the domineering hand of her aunt. After five minutes of this completely odd stare the girl bowed her head. Such manner was casual, calm, relaxed but Rosaliz was still sitting with a straight spine against her wood-carved chair. She did not look uncomfortable or awkward; simply well-postured and a bit closed off with body language. Well. She would see how accurate that notion was in time. Rosaliz had already been drilled twenty thousand times that trust neither was to be given to nobody, nor should she inform anybody about her Dark Arts family. Rosaliz was finding that she cared less and less. She was disgraced by the whole lot of them, simply because they held a power over her, a spell that was seemingly unbreakable. One day, however, she would be released from this control, able to break away as an independent person. Once the girl had left the room, Rosaliz decided that she needed a small stroll around the grounds. This weird encounter with the girl had set her mind into thinking mood. Which was not good….
Rosaliz had taken to walking about the corridors on her off hours as well. It was a way for the she could recollect her thoughts, for she had such little time for intrinsic reflection or thorough examination of the mind. Indeed, Rosaliz thought self-examination was a particular waste of time but she did need time to sort out her thoughts instead of being thrusted into one thing or another. Looking straight ahead, Rosaliz walked through the corridors. She was, as usual, thinking about strategies could overcome their personal weaknesses and make them a terrific force against other people. Although Roaliz had her own biases against the other Houses, she knew that it was better to assume they were all had their problems. Rosaliz continued on in her tread through the castle corridors, the sky outside was now pitch black. It was mid-night already? Rosaliz had a tendency to wander round the corridors at night and lost all senses of time.
Rosaliz pulled out her wand from the depths of her robe pocket and spun it lazily, the all-too familiar swishing sound cutting against the wind, protruding into the stillness. One could say that Rosaliz was more than a little paranoid and the idea that somebody ready to duel her would step out from every corner caused the sharp Gryffie to keep her eyes peeled for any suspicious movement. People were strangers and strangers were the unknown. Rosaliz despised the unknown as it left her vulnerable and susceptible to the grasp of anybody who wanted to maim and torture her. Rosaliz could not stand people detriming her and she had already made it a point to see that girl again With this thought, Rosaliz felt her feet trip over something or somebody on the ground. Feeling annoyance, Rosaliz turned around and faced the thing or person, her eyes traversing to the ground. "Must you be so dense or is not paying attention an accepted behavior of anal idiots who sit in the middle of random corridors?" she asked, her tone cold, her face unmoving from its statuesque composure. finding this completly amusing, she smirked. But then to her dissapointment....she found it was just an old book. She was really hopeing it was somebody except that odd dark haired girl...Frowning in dissapointment, Rosaliz continued walking the empty halls of Hogwarts.
