Post by Rosaliz Hernandez G6 on Aug 24, 2008 6:40:38 GMT
A tinny ticking sound was the only one that could be heard within Rosaliz's bedroom dormitory. It came from her bedside table, more specifically from an ornately carved wrought-iron clock, its dramatically-carved hands pointing at the time, which was currently 12:54am. It was not unusual for Rosaliz to be up at this hour; in fact, her insomnia problems practically guaranteed that she would be up at this time. A candle with wax sliding down its side slowly gave illumination over the page Rosaliz's hazel eyes resided over. The page belonged within a book entitled Sorcery of the Seventeenth Century. While the title seemed innocuous enough, the pages were filled with Dark magic and spells of sorts. Rosaliz had magicked the original title, A Refined Study of the Dark Arts, to that of the former title, which assured no questions would be asked by suspecting others. That was certainly odd although Rosaliz would be leaving the room soon enough as well. Glancing at the time, Rosaliz the long hand had moved a millimeter. 12:55. Standing up silently, Rosaliz placed her book at the bottom of her neatly packed trunk, picking up her ebony cloak before locking it with a spell she herself had developed. There was no such thing as being too cautious and Rosaliz was as paranoid as they came. Slipping her wand into her pocket, Rosaliz placed the cloak over her shoulders and fastened the ornate silver clasp before taking her wand back out, its cold wood pressing against her palm. She turned around and gently blew out the candle, cloaking the room in a blackness only to be purged by the moonlight from a magicked window. Walking noiselessly across the room, Rosaliz opened the door tand slipped out, feeling the silence envelope all around her. The carved furniture looked ominous in the dark, as though spirits had assumed the form of marble and currently presided over Gryffie's new inhabitants. Sharp eyes looking forward, Rosaliz crossed across the room and left it through the door, now within the hollow hall of the basement. Torches were lined every few feet against the icy stone, giving Rosaliz a dim illumination. She knew precisely where she was going but it was good to be overly cautious.
Making a left turn, Rosaliz began her traverse down the hallway, more than a bit curious as to what would happen at the meeting she was heading to. After a momentary pause, Rosaliz continued on her descent in the hallway, knowing that the room was coming up in a second. Spotting it, Rosaliz quietly walked to the door, checking around her to see that nobody else was around, before entering it, expecting nobody to be there anyways. Sitting down for a few minutes she grew impatient. A little walk outside wouldn't do much harm...The night air was, in fact, cold for a early autumn in the United Kingdom but Rosaliz had grown accustomed to this type of weather, having lived in the same place her entire life. In fact, one might even conclude that Rosaliz was more comfortable with being out in frigid, cold places instead of the warm breezy days of summer. Rosaliz simply looked for obstruction from people, a way to stay to herself and remain isolated. People were so untrustworthy and Rosaliz was practically convinced that even making eye contact with a stranger could be fatal. Therefore, estranging and alienating herself was the only resolution. Actually, to Rosaliz, it was rather convenient it worked out this way - she had business that needed attending to, business that could not involve others. The research she had collected over the past summer holiday, buried deep within her father's study, was finally being put into effect and Rosaliz was not about to let her work go to waste. Ever since the end of the term, Rosaliz had walked the small nearby park - the bald spot within the thicket of evergreens, the place where five trees stood symbolically on all sides of the spot, as though marking it her territory, her own personal realm. Rosaliz had arrived at her spot just five minutes later. It did not matter very much what hour of the night it currently was. Nobody had drawn near to her; she was alone and making great progress. However, there came a time when fatigue and restlessness had overtaken the stoic Gryffie, just like any other human being. As she walked, Rosaliz began to think, as this was an activity that often occurred during a walk through lonesome spots. Her cold hazel eyes reamined alert on any signs of movement, knowing that she could never be too careful or trusting. However, her mind was outside of the park and back within the interior of the place she called "home." Once Rosaliz had come across something that could be construed as "odd" or "suspicious," she was not apt to let it go very easily. Granted, she did not jump to ridiculous conclusions but her ultra-paranoid mindset caused her to immediately prepare and expect the very worst possible outcome. Rosaliz did not see this as unnecessary pessimism - it was very necessary, as she always needed to know what sort of situation she was getting herself into. Of course, many fifthteen-year-olds did not think in such obscure ways as Rosaliz herself did but then again, Rosaliz considered herself a cut above the rest. Again she was talking to herself....Her mouth opened and words answered the question posed by herself:
“what are you doing out here?”
"For the change of scenery I suppose."
"Right. Change of scenery....Ha! Scenery. Who cared about scenery when there were much more important manners circulating constantly in the wizarding world?”
Her words were still flat and lacking in any emotion but there was an obvious sense of sarcasm on her part when she thought of these words. This sort of bottom feeding with one self disgusted Rosaliz, although she would never say so aloud. The Gryffie was quite good at twisting words and her meaning toward them. As she was pondering this, Rosaliz crossed over the grassy area toward a small pond, which could be a fatal mistake. Well, not fatal exactly, but the chance of somebody being at the pond was pretty good, even though it was cold outside. Rosaliz did not mind the cold, not in the least bit. Even when the wind was whipping and blowing harshly in her face, she would sit out there and take it in. Recalling a time only a few days ago in which she had done such a thing. Approaching the lake, Rosaliz leaned against a barren tree, one whose leaves were practically all off. What was going on with Rosaliz internally was a bit like the tree - she felt hollow, drained, as if nothing substantial was within herself. However, there were a few "leaves" clinging on, a few beliefs that Rosaliz had to stick to, otherwise everything would fall apart and there would be absolutely left. Unlike the tree, Rosaliz did not want to be exposed to the outer forces of nature, of people, of life itself. She was far too strong and independent for that. Her unmoving hazel eyes glancing out into the distance, Rosaliz took in what she saw - the grey lake, the dark stary skies. It was definitely English weather, although the wind wasn't whipping harshly nor was it snowing. It was the quiet yet bitter cold that make Rosaliz feel even more desolate than usual.
Making a left turn, Rosaliz began her traverse down the hallway, more than a bit curious as to what would happen at the meeting she was heading to. After a momentary pause, Rosaliz continued on her descent in the hallway, knowing that the room was coming up in a second. Spotting it, Rosaliz quietly walked to the door, checking around her to see that nobody else was around, before entering it, expecting nobody to be there anyways. Sitting down for a few minutes she grew impatient. A little walk outside wouldn't do much harm...The night air was, in fact, cold for a early autumn in the United Kingdom but Rosaliz had grown accustomed to this type of weather, having lived in the same place her entire life. In fact, one might even conclude that Rosaliz was more comfortable with being out in frigid, cold places instead of the warm breezy days of summer. Rosaliz simply looked for obstruction from people, a way to stay to herself and remain isolated. People were so untrustworthy and Rosaliz was practically convinced that even making eye contact with a stranger could be fatal. Therefore, estranging and alienating herself was the only resolution. Actually, to Rosaliz, it was rather convenient it worked out this way - she had business that needed attending to, business that could not involve others. The research she had collected over the past summer holiday, buried deep within her father's study, was finally being put into effect and Rosaliz was not about to let her work go to waste. Ever since the end of the term, Rosaliz had walked the small nearby park - the bald spot within the thicket of evergreens, the place where five trees stood symbolically on all sides of the spot, as though marking it her territory, her own personal realm. Rosaliz had arrived at her spot just five minutes later. It did not matter very much what hour of the night it currently was. Nobody had drawn near to her; she was alone and making great progress. However, there came a time when fatigue and restlessness had overtaken the stoic Gryffie, just like any other human being. As she walked, Rosaliz began to think, as this was an activity that often occurred during a walk through lonesome spots. Her cold hazel eyes reamined alert on any signs of movement, knowing that she could never be too careful or trusting. However, her mind was outside of the park and back within the interior of the place she called "home." Once Rosaliz had come across something that could be construed as "odd" or "suspicious," she was not apt to let it go very easily. Granted, she did not jump to ridiculous conclusions but her ultra-paranoid mindset caused her to immediately prepare and expect the very worst possible outcome. Rosaliz did not see this as unnecessary pessimism - it was very necessary, as she always needed to know what sort of situation she was getting herself into. Of course, many fifthteen-year-olds did not think in such obscure ways as Rosaliz herself did but then again, Rosaliz considered herself a cut above the rest. Again she was talking to herself....Her mouth opened and words answered the question posed by herself:
“what are you doing out here?”
"For the change of scenery I suppose."
"Right. Change of scenery....Ha! Scenery. Who cared about scenery when there were much more important manners circulating constantly in the wizarding world?”
Her words were still flat and lacking in any emotion but there was an obvious sense of sarcasm on her part when she thought of these words. This sort of bottom feeding with one self disgusted Rosaliz, although she would never say so aloud. The Gryffie was quite good at twisting words and her meaning toward them. As she was pondering this, Rosaliz crossed over the grassy area toward a small pond, which could be a fatal mistake. Well, not fatal exactly, but the chance of somebody being at the pond was pretty good, even though it was cold outside. Rosaliz did not mind the cold, not in the least bit. Even when the wind was whipping and blowing harshly in her face, she would sit out there and take it in. Recalling a time only a few days ago in which she had done such a thing. Approaching the lake, Rosaliz leaned against a barren tree, one whose leaves were practically all off. What was going on with Rosaliz internally was a bit like the tree - she felt hollow, drained, as if nothing substantial was within herself. However, there were a few "leaves" clinging on, a few beliefs that Rosaliz had to stick to, otherwise everything would fall apart and there would be absolutely left. Unlike the tree, Rosaliz did not want to be exposed to the outer forces of nature, of people, of life itself. She was far too strong and independent for that. Her unmoving hazel eyes glancing out into the distance, Rosaliz took in what she saw - the grey lake, the dark stary skies. It was definitely English weather, although the wind wasn't whipping harshly nor was it snowing. It was the quiet yet bitter cold that make Rosaliz feel even more desolate than usual.