DEARBORN, sophia eleanor (d e a t h is not the end)

Title: DEARBORN, sophia eleanor

sophia dearborn - September 2, 2007 04:16 PM (GMT)

INTRODUCING...
user posted image

sophia dearborn

[who's pulling all the strings?

name: Claire
age: Nineteen
contact: PM me.
experience: Six years, give or take.
how'd you find us? Red Carpet and Rebellion

[ w h o are you?

full name: Sophia Eloise Dearborn
explain the names:
nickname: Soph
age/year: Eighteen, Seventh
house: Gryffindor
any titles?:

[ show some skin!

eye color: Dark Blue
hair color: Light Brown
skin tone: Olive
celebrity portrayal: Claudia Merikula

[ let me pick your brain!

likes:

dislikes:

strengths:

weaknesses:

quirks:

love potion: Lilac, old parchment, baking cookies and fresh linen.
patronus: A Doe
boggart: Losing someone she loves or disappointing her parents.

dementor: There are moments in everyone’s life – whether it is mundane or spectacular – that presents them with a crucial choice. The choice to stay true to who they are and what they love, or the choice to succumb to the dregs of the world and slip into a numbed, complacent state thereby sacrificing all they had worked to hold dear to them. No one is perfect, so it is understandable if not disturbing that many tend to give up at this stage. Muggles have made excuses for their lack of resoluteness and label it things like ‘mid life crisis’ or a voluntary change of heart. In this way, many of the magically endowed have allowed themselves to stick their noses up and preach and go on about how they would never stoop to such a level. Gifted with the power to make things more convenient at will, how could there ever come a time when they would find themselves overwhelmed? It is a sad thing then, when they realize just how helpless they could find themselves to be, how needy of direction or a reassuring word. They fall to their knees as easily as their counterparts did with no inclination to swallow their pride. Life itself is an unpredictable force, mastered only by those who accept its ambiguousness and irrationality for what it is. The only question left to answer is, will you be one of the few to conquer your uncertainty? Or will you fall just like the countless others before you, to the temptation of simply not giving a damn. If asked outright, Sophia Dearborn would have smiled congenially, that inscrutable smile that seems to be hiding nothing, but is masked with an undertone of mysteriousness and purpose. ‘I take things as they come, the best way that I know how.’ And she would have flounced off towards her friends, peeking back still with that same silly expression playing across her delicate rounded features. And there’s no doubt that all she ever did was play by the rules, never attempting to unscramble the secret to a successful, happy life. You might think that fate would therefore be merciful but the reality of it is … everyone has to make a choice.

Hers came in the form of two of Slytherin’s nastiest antagonists. The two could often be seen in one another’s company. Their malicious intentions and mechanical minds were very similar, each with his own distinct way of making someone suffer. It was best to simply avoid them altogether, to acquiesce to their requests or otherwise not say a word to contradict their own. Sophia herself didn’t quite hold to the House stereotypes as firmly as the rest of the students but this particular pair always represented in her mind the epitome of what it means to be Slytherin. She’d never run into them before, which was surprising. Of course there were times she’d catch a glimpse of them in the corridors but everyone was always rushing about and she never really took a moment to acknowledge them with more interest. Rumors encircled them like a shroud of thick smoke. More commonly the stories circulated amongst the younger students in the Common Room. They were fearful despite their angry remarks and plans at plotted consequence and endlessly naïve if they believed that they would get very far with their plan. Most of the Pureblood elitists at school were well-trained and equipped thanks to their demanding parents who expected nothing but absolute perfection from their children. After all they stood for a future ‘untainted’ society and failure could not be tolerated. This was why people like the two Slytherin boys were so aggressive, so determined. Fed lies all their life it was difficult for them to see reason and though she didn’t hold it against them, she could not find outright forgiveness within herself to give. They were unnecessarily cruel boys and they would grow to become terrible people, hailed by those who shared the same views and terrorized and provoked by those who didn’t. In this day and age, you were either born noble or you born hateful.

They demonstrated this one chilly March evening. Sophia had agreed to help one of her Professors sort out his first year papers and grade them for the next day, and she’d – as per usual – been all too happy to oblige. Feeling light-hearted she paid little mind to the snoring portraits or the shadows that flickered suspiciously across the walls. She’d reached the staircase when from behind her she could hear the echo of a clank of armor. Hesitant, she stood upon the uppermost platform for a good five minutes, listening for footsteps or Peeves’ notorious cackling before deciding that it was nothing and heading up quickly. It wasn’t long before she’d turned into the sixth level, striding wearily through the dark, candlelit corridor with her mind on her bed. What she hadn’t taken into account were the barely audible shuffling and snickers that resounded all around her, mind preoccupied with the last Hogsmeade weekend she’d spent with Gregory. He’d given her a silver ring with dragon runes and amethyst cut into the precious metal, wrought in such a way that it curled about her finger in the pattern of blossoming flowers. Of course she’d scolded him for having purchased anything that looked so expensive, but he had admitted it was an old artifact her grandfather had presented to her grandmother when they’d become engaged. Their house elf had stowed it away for him along with various other things and now he’d wanted her to have it, at least that’s what he told her. As romantic as the story was, she remained skeptical but didn’t question him further, kissing him generously and pulling him into an embrace that seemed to ward off the cool breeze.

She was pulled quickly from her reverie when a large hand closed over her mouth, causing her to freeze for a second before she realized what was happening. Kicking and scrabbling at the person’s arm with all her might only resulted in deep, mocking laughter and they pulled her easily into one of the empty tower rooms which had been left abandoned for many years now. Strung with silver cobwebs and coated in dust only make it that much more difficult to breathe but they were merciful enough to let her go, shoving her unceremoniously away from them as though she were a piece of filth. They watched her with much the same expression, one that made her feel like a festering wound. Hugging herself and with her heart racing she studied their darkened faces closely. Immediately her racing heart jumped into her throat as their names and horrific reputations made themselves more clear to her.
She greeted them with a light voice but the contemptuousness in her eyes was evident. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to see you roaming the corridors after curfew, the Dementors won’t tolerate rule-breaking at Azkaban.” She lifted her chin at an attempt of added bravery but it failed miserably, and the two older students could barely contain their laughter. Leering at her in the gloom, it was the taller one who spoke first. “Tarnishing a respectable Pureblood with your dirty, Mudblood hands is more of a crime than anything we’ve committed here combined,” he countered maliciously. “Allow me to get straight to the point, since your pointless babbling is already beginning to grate on my last nerve. If either of us see you in the company of dear cousin again, or any Pureblood for that matter, there will be drastic consequences. You know exactly what we’re capable of, don’t give us a reason to act on it.” The shorter one grinned in obvious amusement before adding: “Although we hardly have a reason now to, now that she’s here. Might as well prove we’re deadly serious while we’re here.” The more menacing of the two could sense the anticipation rise within his friend. The chance to cause suffering always seemed to give him something of an adrenaline rush.

Meanwhile Sophia had backed up again one of the empty desks crammed into the corner of the room, frantically fishing through her robe pockets for her wand. Grasping it, she kept it concealed behind her back, glaring at the shadowy figures who were making their way progressively closer to where she stood. He stepped forth and raised his own wand, but before he could do anything she’d whipped hers in front of her and shouted: “Incacerous!”
Ropes appeared from thin air and the two were stunned as they wrapped themselves tightly about the shorter one’s stout figure, causing him to topple over. With a fleeting sense of relief she made to step over him and made to life her wand to do the same to his partner, but he was quicker and grasped her wrist deftly with one strong hand, twisting it until she was forced to let her only source of protection fall with a clatter to the floor. Something sparkled in what little light there was and the boy, ignoring his partner’s protests, pulled the ring from where it sat upon her slender finger, examining it. He stared at it, then her and before she knew what was going on he’d backhanded her across the face with dizzying effect. Crumpling upon the ground, she pulled herself to her knees and reached out. “Please, don’t! I beg you, don’t! It’s very important!” He smirked, appearing for all the world to be a spawn of Satan’s before pocketing it. Grabbing her roughly by the collar he brought her to her feet, appraising the splotchy red mark that bloomed across the side of her pretty face. “We told you not to fuck with us, Mudblood, now you’ll know better.”

personality: Some people seem to believe that things come in black and white, especially regarding a society that has been thrust into the precarious balance between a blood-thirsty tyrant and a flimsy, unstructured government. You’re either born noble or kind, or you’re born completely rotten. There is no gray area, no in-between that allows for a change of heart. Morals and ideals are burnt into the souls of parents’ children, those of pure blood executing this process with less tolerance than their Half-breed counterparts. There are rules, expectations and sides. Allegiances must be chosen carefully and followed through until the end, even if that means sacrificing more than any one person might be willing to give. Some are in it for the glory and recognition, believing that once they’ve seen life through to the end, even if they’ve fallen into the wrong crowd, their pain will be adequately recompensed. Others fight for the ones they love, or to achieve a sense of flourishing individuality, proud that they did not succumb to the cowardly way out of things. They do it in the name of a better future. The truth is though; there exists a colourful range of desires and quirks that makes up each and every person. There is no template to follow with rigid, predictable answers in their creation. The only validity to this is that children this day and age have a tendency to take after their parents, though not as enthusiastically as one might think. They mold themselves after them as infants but as they grow they develop and hone their own sets of what is right and what should be. They harbor their own fears and inhibitions. But because rules are so strictly reinforced, because it is such a crucial point in time, they have no direction. They have expectations to fill but they have no will to do so. They want to please themselves, be proud of what they’ve made for themselves not for filling out a life that was already created for them. Not for successfully playing the role of someone they never were, or wanted to be.

Sophia Eleanor Dearborn was not particularly like her parents. In fact their unusual leeway compared to most other families’ gave her the opportunity to test out the waters without much restriction. Because of this freedom, there was never any need for her to rebel. Unlike her sister, though that could have amounted to the fact that Emma’s mind was never as open and that it was a natural instinct of hers to seek attention by whatever means. Sophia always reassured herself that deep down her older sister’s soul was just as bright and questioning as her own, and was eventually rewarded when the older of two children began to act upon her creative spirit. Some might have classified Sophia as whimsical. Throughout her youth she would spend endless hours in the fields, simply sitting beneath a tree and reading or humming or sleeping. She loved the outdoors, there was space for her to utilize. As she grew older she began to romanticize and daydream. Her mother’s laughter always put her at ease and there were many rainy days they would spend in the sitting room by the window, Rose’s long fingers braiding her daughter’s hair as the little girl spouted nonsensical stories. Instead of dismissing them as an overactive imagination however, Rose was able to take these tales and ask serious questions. Where had she come up with these? How would she feel if she learned that, suddenly, these fantastical places were very much real? It was in this way Sophia and her mother connected on a level that most others couldn’t. Because she had so much support, the youngest Dearborn found that it was easier to lead a peaceful, open-minded existence without fearing ridicule. However this was nearly tarnished as Emma began to resent the closeness of her mother and sister that had been born during her absence. Her mind was so closed that it must have been frustrating for her not to have been able to relate in the same way they did. Sophia would later reassure her that it wasn’t her fault, and that she had her own qualities that made her unique and special and strong. This did not satisfy unfortunately and Sophia was disappointed that Emma had begun to fall in with the common standard.

As a teenager, Sophia has found that her imagination has softened. Of course that doesn’t mean to say her interest has faded in the more abstract things around her, but in a way these fantasies have matured so that an undertone of realism has been added to keep her from losing touch with the world around her, as a sad a state and it’s in. Though she isn’t the most knowledgeable person her age, she has a heedful of common sense and combines it with her instincts. This has helped her to rid her mind of what the other students could be saying about her behind her back, what they might think or how she’ll do on the next exam. To put it plainly she is content with whom she is and has very little doubt where her capabilities are concerned. With an effortless charisma and kindliness it’s easy to befriend the girl. She may at first seem unconcerned with current issues or may come off as a little air headed but that truly is an awful misconception. In truth she is very mindful of her environment and will put forth the effort to contribute and give her opinion. As a friend she is perpetually loyal and would give her right arm to ensure their happiness. Because she keeps laughter in high esteem, she often will tell silly stories or cheesy jokes simply to enliven someone who has been having a rough day. She also knows when it’s time for a serious discussion and will not hesitate to go out of her way to treat anyone with the respect they deserve. House rivalry for instance has never really hindered the light in which she views others. If Slytherins actually had the audacity to befriend a Gryffindor – there is one notable exception – she was sure she would have given them the chance without being conscious of first impressions. She is as generous as they come and very soft-spoken and well-mannered. Her Professors have marveled at the way she offers to stay behind and help them with any small tasks that might need doing. The strange thing is, her peers do not consider this an exaggerated attempt at getting into the faculty’s good graces. It just always seems to come naturally and genuinely for the girl. All she ever wanted to do was make others happy, and though that might seem a tad far-fetched, she’s demonstrated it time and time again without fail.

Perfection is not particularly achievable, even for someone as seemingly innocent and naïve as Sophia. Her faults are as evident as anyone else’s and though she doesn’t like to consider them, she has come to accept them as things that have built her character and who she is. For instance, as mentioned earlier she isn’t the brightest bulb in the box. That doesn’t mean to say she’s stupid, of course not, but her good grades are mostly attributed to the fact that she makes an honest effort and does not give up. The single subject she’s ever been particularly good at is Charms and even then the class is recognized as something of a joke. Her ambition is unmistakable in this way, though nothing to rival the supposed standard the Slytherins consider ideal. She is extremely paranoid and a notable worry-wart when it comes to her friends and family. Constantly asking where people are or what they’re doing, where they’d last seen her sister and whom she was with. This has been the reason for many of their arguments in the past, though Emma seems to have come to terms with it and even now lavishes in the attention it provides. She is incredibly sensitive and will take things to heart if they are significantly negative. Any talk of death or torture to animals or children for example will have her reeling and sulking. Her attention is never fully undivided and she finds it difficult to sometimes concentrate in class. She can become rather snappy when her things are touched and she cannot tolerate untidiness in any form. Of course those that know Sophia well would find it hilarious to see her angry. Rarely does she speak just above a whisper and her frail, petite figure does not lend much to an intimidation factor.

Just like anyone else she has her own downfalls but has since embraced them in order to move on. Her heart and intentions have always been and will always be good, and she will be sure to leave a long-lasting impression even after she’s gone.

[ take a look back in time

parents: Louis and Michelle Dearborn
siblings: Emma Dearborn *

history: Everyone is born pure of heart and of good intentions into a world that thrives on corruption and greed. Many consider this unfair, that something so beautiful be tarnished without even having provoked such a distasteful fate. Futures may be predicted at that point, some blatantly obvious from the start. However things don’t necessarily always go according to plan but whether or not this has anything to do with a higher power is a dismissible. Over time there have been great stories of those who accomplish great things. There have been tales passed along from generation to generation about great people who do terrible things. They’ve left a land-mark; an imprint within society that is either admired or frowned upon, living on through distant memories. What remains to be acknowledged is the fact that despite these significant deeds, adventure, drama, acceptance and unique experiences are overrated. Civilization as a whole has watched with bated breath for years the defamation and distress glamour and fame brings to the youth of the modern world, the supposed beacons of light for the future, stepping stones to something they haven’t yet seen, something fresh and new and above all, promising. So many reach out and hold these possibilities with fervor, so focused on what could be that they remain blind to the plain and often painful truth. No one has a set plan in mind, there isn’t some fairytale ending written up waiting to be executed. It’s all irrelevant in the end. Succumbing to the hands of chance and circumstance it seems all optimism is lost with only the shells of those once vibrant few littering the crevices of what they called paradise, one or two still harboring their dreams and desires, stuck on the ‘what ifs?’ and finding no salvation.
If there was anyone born to remedy this however it would have been Sophia Dearborn – the most unlikely candidate for restoring warmth and vivacity – if not to the gray streets and lifeless skies – than to whomever would take the time to listen.

It would only have been appropriate for the young, flighty girl to have been born to a pair of dreamers. Of course those that know the Dearborn’s personally would never have even considered that either of them should be classified as such. To be painfully honest with the risk of sounding cliché, they were made for one another. They were the type to believe in the concept of soul mates, of making the most of one’s life and living it to the fullest, that there is no such thing as coincidence. In short they fought against all of the ideals society at that time had fallen into. The dreariness of it was mind-numbing and so it should have only been expected that someone would have eventually broken the mold. Then again, things never follow through as smoothly as anyone might anticipate. That is why there really is no solid explanation as to their chance meeting. Louis Dearborn had just finished an interview with one of the biggest financial branches in London. Young, handsome and ambitious he had a slight and quite understandable spring in his step, turning into one of the golden-plated elevators and tapping the first floor button with a smile. Suddenly a woman’s voice echoed about the halls, requesting that they halt the doors. Everyone else crammed into the small space rolled their eyes and sighed but Louis extended his arm and grasped the young girl’s hand firmly in his own, effectively pulling her into the empty place alongside him just as the heavy panel slid shut. She thanked him with a sheepish grin which he found exceedingly charming and then a few moments of small talk before they reached their destination, sparing parting glances before being swept up in the hustle and bustle of the lobby.

It was the last he thought he’d ever see of her and attempted to put her out of his mind. However it proved more difficult than it should have and he found her sparkling eyes and long, blonde hair materializing before his eyes everytime he stepped through those doors everyday the following week. It was exactly eleven days later, the evenings had arrived that would change his life forever. It was lunch and though he could have opted for one of the vending machine’s surprises he felt that it simply wouldn’t suffice and so grabbed his overcoat and made his way downstairs and outside. A fountain bubbled despite the rain and he watched it curiously, not noticing a woman sitting there without any means of shelter from the silvery curtains of it. Under any other normal circumstance he would have simply left her to her own devices, but something about that gleaming, golden hair persuaded him otherwise. As if by an invisible rope he was drawn towards her turned back, gaze fixated upon her, examining every curve exemplified by the tight fit of her suit and her long, slender neck.

Upon reaching her and before he could say anything she’d turned around and stared him straight in the eyes, remaining like that for several minutes as the rain pounded the pavement relentlessly. They said nothing, but they both felt the wordless understanding that had passed between them in the elevator that day. It was positively electric and nothing he had ever experienced before, the air had left his lungs and he felt even the simple act of breathing had become an alien function. When he realized what was going on he felt an indescribable sensation; the feel of her soft lips against his own helped him to plant his feet firmly on the ground. There was something so enchanting about it and yet there were no words eloquent enough to adequately spell it out. When he regained his trademark cool, calm composure, he gripped her shoulders gently and pulled her to him, promising that they would have the chance to relive this impossibly blissful moment for the rest of their lives. What he hadn’t taken into account that day was the fact that, though she had been sitting in the rain apparently for hours waiting for him, she had not a raindrop clinging to her hair or clothing. She had asked him in the past whether that would have changed anything, and his answer was always a resounding no. When they married three months later, Louis had secured a well-paying job at the bank where they’d initially met and Michelle had revealed the secret that would have either finalized or destroyed their union for good. Of course it was a shock to the system, something he’d had to get used to, but over time he convinced himself that it didn’t change a thing, nor his devotion to her. Her father’s connections ensured that their life would be a comfortable one and with this added reassurance they conceived their first child. She was a rambunctious little thing with quite an attitude, but they were immensely proud. Having previously agreed that they would send her to a private school for the best education possible, they moved off to Perth in Scotland, referred to one of the most privy establishments that were situated there that would suit their daughter’s temperamental needs. It might have been a tad early, but they found the premature preparations appropriate, especially considering they were expecting a second child at any time and would not need the added stress. It was then Sophia was born. Immediately her mother knew she was something special. With lively blue eyes and a tuft of strawberry blonde hair, she was as gorgeous as they came. The two girls eventually attended school together with Sophia one year behind her sister. For a long while they did not get on very well, though the younger of the two tried desperately to reach out to Emma – never giving up until the other finally admitted that their siblingship could be something powerful. One turning point in their relationship occurred when Emma received her letter to Hogwarts. Sophia was so proud, as were her parents but when she was gone for the year, it seemed this only gave Michelle more time to bond with the quieter of her two children. This did not escape Emma’s attention upon her return and that old rivalry resumed between the two for another year until Sophia also received a letter. Having been sorted into the same house gave them the opportunity to set their differences aside.

It wasn’t long after both girls had spent approximately a year each in Hogwarts did the Dearborn’s decide to move back to England. For one it would have been much less of a hassle getting the children to the Hogwarts Express and secondly because Louis had been offered a promotion which required that he return to the city if he wanted to remain with his family for longer than a few days at a time. With the money and means to do it, they found it the best option and uprooted Sophia from the home she’d grown accustomed to, replacing it with something more fast-paced and exciting. However the effect quickly wore off and she found herself longing for the rich Scottish countryside and the fresh air. The people here were far less friendly and she’d noticed that her parents had become less and less attentive since they’d returned. Since her father’s hours had increased ten-fold, he rarely spent time out of his office and her mother busied herself with preparing dinner parties for his privileged clients. It was during this rough patch that she came to depend for the first time upon her older sister, and Emma did not let her down. At least not to begin with. They provided one another with the needed emotional support but as Emma grew continuously more wild, Sophia found herself standing in her sister’s shadow. She didn’t know where to turn when he parent’s fought or what to do when a long period of loneliness had ensued. The former vibrancy in her mother’s eyes had faded and no longer did they derive joy from one another’s presence as they used to. There was only duty and expectations and standards. They all adapted over time of course, as people do when they are forced into such a disagreeable situation and Sophia has attempted with all her might to continue to be the prime example of what a child of hope should be. She wanted to give her parents something to look forward to when they retired, to admire when they had a moment and for her sister to consider as a healthier option to her superfluous ways.

Reaching her fifth year, Sophia had done incredibly well for herself. Attending class on time and prepared, ceaselessly friendly and helpful to those around her and incredibly self-motivated she shone brightly within her Professor’s eyes and she only continues to strive to do more. In the years that have passed since her graduation however, things have been on a downward spiral. With the wizarding world's hero gone, there seems to be noone willing to step up and take his place to guide the panicking citizens. Being so young and naive, Sophia doesn't know what to expect anymore but prays that she keeps her wits about her and knows enough to not get caught up in the wrong crowd.

* - Unplayable

[ the rest of the rest

member title: little miss __ sunshine
pets?: Grey Owl named 'Thelonious'
anything else about your character we should know?: She's a crazy woman.
other: How Far We've Come

roleplay sample:

QUOTE

Her life was miserable. And she didn’t think so simply because she’d had a rough day. Everyone knew it, some acknowledged it but the majority found they had little sympathy to spare and too little time to waste on one of the many unhappy people sulking about the school’s lonely hallways. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t expected to feel so disappointed after she’d been informed of the announcement of her engagement. After all if anyone knew Roman Lestrange they would realize immediately that the outcome of such a union would be devastating. Still, the days wore on and the impending dread that had taken to haunting her remained. She would never get used to the fact that they were going to spend the rest of their life together. In fact the very thought of it sometimes had her excusing herself from class and heading to the furthestmost washroom in tears. And then the gossip would spread like wildfire. Her peers would throw meaningful looks at one another; pitying, amused, resentful … at least nothing she wanted to see for herself. The lot of them considered her selfish for acting so ungrateful when she was getting everything anyone could want. A sterling reputation, the wealth and other prestige that came along with it, a gorgeous husband – what wasn’t there to envy? But they could hardly understand the impact his violent hands had on her, body and soul. They didn’t understand what it did to a person, knowing that future husband would spend every night happily in another woman’s arms, tearing you apart with every breath uttered while in the same vicinity. They couldn’t grasp how completely unloved one might feel after realizing that everyone they loved had turned their back on her and left her to fend for herself. There was no just outcome for a woman born pure of blood. She had to make the decision as to whether or not she believed she was strong enough to endure the entire ordeal. And if Gabrielle Zabini was one thing, it was strong. Despite the tears that slid in wet trails down her cheeks, she’d resolved herself to go through with the marriage. Not because she had no other choice mind, because she was certain if things really got out of hand, there would always be another escape. It was just a matter of whether she was cowardly enough to go through with it and whether or not she’d be content to leave her poor mother behind to clean up the mess.

The glassy reflection staring back at her from the bathroom mirror could have easily been mistaken for a portrait; her features, delicate but distinct, remained unmoving. There was an eerie quality about the emptiness in her normally dark, sultry eyes and lifelessness to her slender arms as they rested limply against the sides of her rounded waist. The strangest thing of all however was the fact that at even fifteen years old there were no traces of her youth, as though she’d been weaned away from anything that might allude to her age. It was certain she acted much more maturely than a lot of girls even a year or two older than herself and was able to provide advice not suited for the short number of years she’d lived and the inexperience most would expect from just a silly little girl.

Eventually her long, spidery fingers moved and her arm lifted so that they could brush away a strand of hair that had fallen from the updo she’d rearranged for the hundredth time in the span of half an hour. Tucking it out of sight she turned one of the silver taps and cupped a handful of cool water, splashing it liberally against her face and then toweling off before ensuring any sign of her momentary grief and the night she’d spent in Roman’s company were adequately hidden away from speculative eyes. Her own refocused upon the mirror which she now regarded with disgust before she busied herself with smoothing out her ruffled skirt and blouse. A creamy triangle of skin was left exposed there, just above the collar, revealing an ornate silver locket – the one her mother had given her a few years previous. Many times that summer she had debated whether or not she should throw it away. After all, it had been her mother whom had betrayed her. Who had allowed that monster into their home and left her to deal with his volatile temper. After he’d finally left she’d contemplated what she’d possibly done wrong to have provoked such rage but had come up with nothing and stood there in Moaning Myrtle’s lavatory with no more an answer then she’d had at the time.

Thankfully the consistently gloomy ghoul was not present; else she would have insisted on prying into Gabrielle’s business. Still, no one else knew that which made it the perfect place for her to wash up in private. Some of the other girls had once leant against the door to see if they could hear anything, jumping back and putting on some ridiculously oblivious façade as though they thought her a complete imbecile. The news would die down in time but she couldn’t risk appearing out of sorts in front of her peers now. And the last thing she wanted to do was upset what friends she had. She already had Reynard pledging Roman’s ultimate demise and Mackenzie promising to attend the wedding and provide what moral support she could. Though they were kind gestures, in the end they wouldn’t amend the situation. She had to find some way to do that herself.

Straightening her posture and turning on her heel, Gabrielle lifted her chin and pushed open the door with newfound strength, uncaring as to which girls were lurking around the corner waiting to see something interesting. Of course, nothing was certain anymore and it appeared fate had another cruel little trick stored up its sleeve.

spencer smith - September 2, 2007 09:06 PM (GMT)

Looks um....what's the word...AMAZING.

srsly. this is awesome. <333

ACCEPTED!

ellielove - September 13, 2007 12:54 AM (GMT)

DENIED.
You didn't reply to the activity check.

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