Post by Dakota Fox S6 on Dec 22, 2009 20:31:19 GMT
It was a white winter. Dakota stood out considerably in the snow, with her thick, black cloak and matching warm robes. In fact, she thought, it would be a white Christmas. There was less than a week till the especial day, and she doubted the temperature would drop fast enough for this winter wonderland to melt. Dakota was rather impassive towards the condition of the country; it was quite beautiful, yes, but beauty only brought her tears, not happiness. All Dakota felt was cold; and at times, the burning fire of hatred.
The snow crunched beneath her boots, it was so thick. Dakota had left a visible trail behind her, leading up to the front doors of the recognisable Blackfire manor. She did not look back. Her gaze was focused solely on the doors, which she rapped on quickly and smartly upon reaching. She was expected, and was not surprised when a house elf greeted her and led her inside, towards 'Master Blackfire'.
"Pyro," Dakota greeted with the smallest of smiles, the only smile she ever wore nowadays, after depositing her outer cloak to the house elf. Although Dakota had never been particularly well-mannered, and she had only grown worse the last year with her apathy, Pyro's presence always elicited the best behaviour from her. Perhaps it was the knowledge of how much she owed Pyro. Maybe it was because she had entrusted him with so much indeed.
Whatever the case, Dakota was content to call Pyro Blackfire her friend; her first real friend. She would never have imagined it, years ago, with her flighty personality. During those youthful days, Pyro and the Blackfire family seemed so distant; he was, after all, two years her senior, and although Dakota held power through the name of her family and her father, Pyro had always held power in his own right. Dakota had grown up listening to rumours and stories of the Blackfires; they were like legend, like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and The Boy Who Lived.
The two of them exchanged pleasantries. It was somewhat forced on Dakota's part, but at the same time, it grounded her; it was the first time she felt truly normal, back to her old self, in a past where she was whole. Of course, though, when the conversation inevitably turned to Damien, this illusion was immediately shattered. "How is he?" Dakota asked, eyes clouded with grief and worry. "Tell me they are treating him well. You know as well I do that if he has been mistreated that I would hunt them down and kill them," she said with strong, hard conviction.
Dakota did not know the facts, but she had heard, throughout her life, several stories about the Blackfires and their violent ways; especially that of Pyro Blackfire. She did not underestimate him, and she knew he, of everyone, would understand her blood lust. He understood it well enough when it concerned Stephen Donahue. "I would find it hard to forgive you too," Dakota then admitted, looking away from her host. "But I would. I would. You have done too much for me." For the first time, her gratefulness towards Pyro's kindness seeped from her.
"Won't you tell me about him, Pyro?" Dakota finally asked after a short silence, her voice subdued but desperate. "Tell me about him so that... so it doesn't hurt so much... not to see him, to know him." Tears came, and Dakota did not have the will to fight them in front of Pyro. "I need something, anything." So Pyro told her; told her how her son was growing just fine, how he was ageing well and beginning to look lively and healthy as each day passed. He did indeed take after his mother; beautiful blonde hair and startlingly clear green eyes, a smiling, happy baby. And whilst Pyro talked, Dakota wept, for she would never know such happiness.
The snow crunched beneath her boots, it was so thick. Dakota had left a visible trail behind her, leading up to the front doors of the recognisable Blackfire manor. She did not look back. Her gaze was focused solely on the doors, which she rapped on quickly and smartly upon reaching. She was expected, and was not surprised when a house elf greeted her and led her inside, towards 'Master Blackfire'.
"Pyro," Dakota greeted with the smallest of smiles, the only smile she ever wore nowadays, after depositing her outer cloak to the house elf. Although Dakota had never been particularly well-mannered, and she had only grown worse the last year with her apathy, Pyro's presence always elicited the best behaviour from her. Perhaps it was the knowledge of how much she owed Pyro. Maybe it was because she had entrusted him with so much indeed.
Whatever the case, Dakota was content to call Pyro Blackfire her friend; her first real friend. She would never have imagined it, years ago, with her flighty personality. During those youthful days, Pyro and the Blackfire family seemed so distant; he was, after all, two years her senior, and although Dakota held power through the name of her family and her father, Pyro had always held power in his own right. Dakota had grown up listening to rumours and stories of the Blackfires; they were like legend, like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and The Boy Who Lived.
The two of them exchanged pleasantries. It was somewhat forced on Dakota's part, but at the same time, it grounded her; it was the first time she felt truly normal, back to her old self, in a past where she was whole. Of course, though, when the conversation inevitably turned to Damien, this illusion was immediately shattered. "How is he?" Dakota asked, eyes clouded with grief and worry. "Tell me they are treating him well. You know as well I do that if he has been mistreated that I would hunt them down and kill them," she said with strong, hard conviction.
Dakota did not know the facts, but she had heard, throughout her life, several stories about the Blackfires and their violent ways; especially that of Pyro Blackfire. She did not underestimate him, and she knew he, of everyone, would understand her blood lust. He understood it well enough when it concerned Stephen Donahue. "I would find it hard to forgive you too," Dakota then admitted, looking away from her host. "But I would. I would. You have done too much for me." For the first time, her gratefulness towards Pyro's kindness seeped from her.
"Won't you tell me about him, Pyro?" Dakota finally asked after a short silence, her voice subdued but desperate. "Tell me about him so that... so it doesn't hurt so much... not to see him, to know him." Tears came, and Dakota did not have the will to fight them in front of Pyro. "I need something, anything." So Pyro told her; told her how her son was growing just fine, how he was ageing well and beginning to look lively and healthy as each day passed. He did indeed take after his mother; beautiful blonde hair and startlingly clear green eyes, a smiling, happy baby. And whilst Pyro talked, Dakota wept, for she would never know such happiness.
