Post by Deleted on Feb 7, 2019 16:57:01 GMT -5
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black sea
[attr="class","reasonsmallannabella"]Grip your hands tired of what's your worth Watch yourself beg hanging on to Earth Love, War, Pain, Life everything's the same to me
black sea
[attr="class","reasonsmallannabella"]Grip your hands tired of what's your worth Watch yourself beg hanging on to Earth Love, War, Pain, Life everything's the same to me
[attr="class","reasonbodannabella"]Alistair had hit another brick wall.
His theory that the Elder Wand recreation could not be accomplished with traditional Elder Wood was proving to both be true and improvable. There were too many variables. Too many changes that he was making. At each turn — at each rendition — he was moving too many pieces of the puzzle around.
How was he to figure out what the solution truly was when he couldn’t even figure out the first piece?
He needed a break. Needed something to clear his head. Otherwise he was fairly certain that he was going to throw a bottle of fire whiskey at the next customer that asked him for something. Thankfully the Longbottom girl was on time for her shift and Alistair was able to slip out of the Inn without causing a scene.
What had he expected when he’d first taken on this task? That it would be easy to recreate the most fantastical relics of Wizarding history? Had he thought there would be simplicity about it all? Perhaps he had been naive and over-estimated his abilities. For right now, Alistair only felt as if he had failed himself.
Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he decided he ought to go for a walk. It would be better to clear his head than stay at the Inn and risk blowing up on someone. His feet knew where to take him — the house on the hill, guarded by iron gates. The Shrieking Shack. For a few minutes, he stood at the bottom of the hill, looking up at it; looming in the sky.
It held memories. Distant ones. Ones that he didn’t wish to relive. Because who he was now was more important than the boy that he had once been.
He heard her approaching — the familiar footfalls behind him. He knew that it was Apolline. No one else would follow him here. After all, the majority of the Hogsmeade population were still frightened of the Shack on the hill.
There were days when it sort of felt like the old times. The moments when it was just Alistair and Apolline growing up in Hogsmeade. Axton had attended Şolomanţă, but the other two had remained. Tutored at home for years by their Grandfather, they forged a special bond. Alistair considered himself closer to Apolline than Axton, but that much was obvious. After all, he harbored a good deal of resentment when his brother took off for Şolomanţă at age eleven.
Those feelings never truly went away.
“We should buy it,” Alistair said, looking up at the top of the building. It was hideous, but full of so much history. He knew the rumors that shrouded the building — that it was haunted. Used as an underground keep for werewolves and vampires. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps he would gather enough coin to buy it one day and discover a coven of Vampires living in the basement. It would not be the strangest thing that had happened to him, would it? “It would be a good research facility.”
His theory that the Elder Wand recreation could not be accomplished with traditional Elder Wood was proving to both be true and improvable. There were too many variables. Too many changes that he was making. At each turn — at each rendition — he was moving too many pieces of the puzzle around.
How was he to figure out what the solution truly was when he couldn’t even figure out the first piece?
He needed a break. Needed something to clear his head. Otherwise he was fairly certain that he was going to throw a bottle of fire whiskey at the next customer that asked him for something. Thankfully the Longbottom girl was on time for her shift and Alistair was able to slip out of the Inn without causing a scene.
What had he expected when he’d first taken on this task? That it would be easy to recreate the most fantastical relics of Wizarding history? Had he thought there would be simplicity about it all? Perhaps he had been naive and over-estimated his abilities. For right now, Alistair only felt as if he had failed himself.
Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he decided he ought to go for a walk. It would be better to clear his head than stay at the Inn and risk blowing up on someone. His feet knew where to take him — the house on the hill, guarded by iron gates. The Shrieking Shack. For a few minutes, he stood at the bottom of the hill, looking up at it; looming in the sky.
It held memories. Distant ones. Ones that he didn’t wish to relive. Because who he was now was more important than the boy that he had once been.
He heard her approaching — the familiar footfalls behind him. He knew that it was Apolline. No one else would follow him here. After all, the majority of the Hogsmeade population were still frightened of the Shack on the hill.
There were days when it sort of felt like the old times. The moments when it was just Alistair and Apolline growing up in Hogsmeade. Axton had attended Şolomanţă, but the other two had remained. Tutored at home for years by their Grandfather, they forged a special bond. Alistair considered himself closer to Apolline than Axton, but that much was obvious. After all, he harbored a good deal of resentment when his brother took off for Şolomanţă at age eleven.
Those feelings never truly went away.
“We should buy it,” Alistair said, looking up at the top of the building. It was hideous, but full of so much history. He knew the rumors that shrouded the building — that it was haunted. Used as an underground keep for werewolves and vampires. Perhaps it was true. Perhaps he would gather enough coin to buy it one day and discover a coven of Vampires living in the basement. It would not be the strangest thing that had happened to him, would it? “It would be a good research facility.”
[attr="class","reasontagannabella"]Apolline Margery A. Dumbledore | 509 | OUTFIT
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