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Post by Grace Taelin on Sept 24, 2007 17:46:14 GMT -5
p r o f f e s s o r g r a c e t a e l i n
Walking alone by night, dangerous by anyones standards, But walking alone in the darkness and a strange side alley. When the circumstances, the circumstances take you back to bad times and make you hide. Curl up and cringe with fear. So that you end up, lieing on the floor. Crying and sobbing hysterically. Like a tiny baby with a nightmare. Well that is a fairly foolish thing to do indeed. And yet still he did, for the place he was headed was his respite. The one place he could go to forget everthing he needed to. His repite in his darkest fear? How odd, how utterly odd, at least that was what he thought to himself.
The rain started to beat down a tatoo. Pounding, unrelenting. Like a drumbeat that wormed its way into the bones, even with the cold that it bought seeping with it. And yet he was unsure, now the pounding was inside his head, insistand, urgent. And then it was not, it was just the pounding tatoo of the rain. Splattering around him and running in rivulets down the road. Grace was dry under his spell, and fairly warm under his cloak. But his feet were wet with his boots soaking through, as he splashed along the side alley that would lead his to where he wanted he was nearly there. And so intense was the growing cold that he was glad.
And there before him was the worn wooden door. And above it the sign with the severed boars head emblazoned on it. He realised his hand was paused, finger tips brushing the door. The anticipation was almost better than anything else. And then he stretched out the last few milimeterse, throwing his weight behing his hand and opening the door. It yeilded with only a little resistance,f or he was stronger than he looked, and gracey went in, hood still up.
Heading towards the bar he paused momentarily only to change his spells and to remove his heavy outer cloak, hanging in on the stand behind the door. He produced form some hidden pocket a smart trilby hat and , like many in the hogshead he would not easily show his face if he could help it. He continued on his journey towards the bar, reaching it and slumping against the polished wood. He glanced up at the barman, a wizened old man, and smiled at him. He half turned catching sight of Grace and turned back. himself up onot a bar stool and the man placed a bottle of bright green liquid infront of him, Grace delved into a pocket producing the coins to pay for his drinks and handed them over saying, Keep the change Aberforth mate from another pocket he prodeced a glace and Aberforth smiled, turning to teh till as Grace poured himself a galce of the liquid. Staring into it's depths he considered it a moment before taking a mouthful.
Swallowing thoughtfully he looked up, glancing around the establishment. The usual collection of well covered up individuals scattered the grimy room. No new faces, or rahter, veils, in here tonight. Such was the loneliness of the Hogshead pub. He thought morosely. He took another mouthful. Slightly too much, it burned the back of his throat on the way down. Not a wonder the stereotype of an alchoholic is a lonely one... he mused to no-one on particular. He stared again around the farmiliar room and felt a sudden wave of loneliness. So very, very alone...[/font][/right] |
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Post by Zachary Lennox on Oct 7, 2007 12:11:04 GMT -5
z a c h a r y . l e n n o x Zack had been wandering to cold streets all night purposfully breaking his skin and watching the thin blood grow weaker. Had he the strength to catch a rat he would have thus he'd gotten himself this far. The rain had flattened his hair which hung slightly over his face and into his eyes. Those eyes were a deadly sharp black, bloodshot from fustration and lack of nessicarry nutrition. His arms hung limpy from his body as he threw himself down in the dark alleyway. He sat like a lifeless doll, staring at the grey wall infront of him. A few sounds hit his ears, owls, rats, the rain but then the few footsteps caused his head to turn. He pulled himself up from the ground. There was no use in trying to keep himself dry anymorehe was drenched and had been since the break of night. The black jeans hung like heavy weights on his semi-thin body and the t-shirt looked like a disheartened black rag clinging to him. His bare, chill arms felt the rain but not the cold. They were colder than death in more so than they ever had been because the blood hadn't been warm and livley.
He watched from the alleyway as the frame of a familiar person fell into the hogs head pub yet Zack was in to much of a daze to remember to restrain himself. He dragged himself, slightly staggering, out of the alleyway which was a little littered and began across the road to the Hogs Head. His pale hand fell on the door and he stopped for a moment. What the hell was he doing? He turned and let his back fall against the bricks just beside it.
"Bloody rats..."
He turned and pushed the door walking in quite silently. His footfalls were quite human as he hadn't the strength to make them his light almost floating steps but instead continued into the dark corner of the room slumping quite steadily into the chair and sat penitrating the stares with his own gastly eyes. The black had vanished and was returned witht he reflection of the burning candels and dark walls.
He cast a downward stare to the table and rose once more from the chair where his damp clothing had left its mark upon the leather apoulstry. He came to the bar and tossed a coin onto the wooden surface before picking up a bottle which had been set there. He returned to the cornr of the room which others, masked with their hoods and veils, had stopped looking. He sat quite still with the open battle infront of him. Almost the same as in the alley where he was like a ragdoll. Torn and unimportant enough not to be sorely missed. He smirked as he thought these and absentmindedly took a sip from the bottle spitting it out as soon as it hit his tongue. The vile taste of mortal food was too much for him, however much he wined on to Ashe about wanting to taste the delicasies he loved once more he couldn't stomache it anyway. Actually his digestive organs were dead. As was most of him. Only his brain, heart and lungs worked now, semi-alive, that and his muscles.
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Post by Grace Taelin on Oct 7, 2007 13:54:54 GMT -5
p r o f e s s o r g r a c e t a e l i n
Another day another drink, another year shaved off your life and an inch of your height. Destroy your liver slowly and your mind at a similar rate. Drink, the most popular form of self destruction. He ran his tounge over his dry cracked lips. Whet your wistle, end up dehydrated. What a funny thing it is that we love to kill ourselfes slowly with. It would be quicker to cut your wrists on a daily basis. What funny creatures humans are.
Grace was staring into the depths of his drink when someon aproached the bar, falling heavily against it just next to him. He snapped his head sideways automatically, quickly profiling the individual so expertly he couldhave picked him from a line up. Tallish, thin, dark hair and exhausted looking. Grace permitted himself a stare, convinced he had seen the young man at hogwarts, perhaps passed him in the corridors. But there was somthing compelling about him. He watched, twisting in his seat as he walked over to the table. Watching with interest that he did not, or perhaps could not, drink from his bottle. Grace had a passing feeling that it was probably paranoia. He returned to his drink.
With the bottle empty and his last glass of the bright green liquid in front of him Grace new that sudden movements would make his vision swim, he needed about five minutes and then he would be fine. But his curiosity piquedagain, the boy was still slumped in hsi chair,, sodden and exhausted, unmoving. And for once Grace did somthing he did not expect of himsefl, standing up slowly with his last drink he shook his head to clear the haze. With his vision clear he moved carefully and calmly over to wear the boy stayed sumped.
For a few moments he watched, still fascinated and ntrigues but then he felt that he ws perhaps being rude, so he cleared his throat and said, Er, Is this seat taken? Or may I sit with you? He gave the goung man what he sincerely hoped was a comforting kind of smile although his facial muscles felt so relaxed he mightn't have moved at all. Feeling foolish, stood in an almsot empty room he took a sip of the bright green liquid that his tumbler contained. Letting its liquid fire, its confidence and energy surge through his veins again.[/right][/font] |
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Post by Zachary Lennox on Oct 7, 2007 14:14:40 GMT -5
z a c h a r y . l e n n o x His fingers ran aorund the neck of the bottle pressure building in his fingertips as if he wanted to break it and had nor the energy yet the ease to just brush it off as a faulty bottle neck. He let go almost too fast, knocking the bottle so it swung but a swift quick movement caught it so nothing moved so much as an inch. Leaning forward he looked up at the ceiling. It was an interesting array of cobwebs, small animals bones and possibly the most build up of dirt and grime the vampire had ever seen in his life. He sat back head still tilted up over the t-shirt sticking to his stomache, which was possibly a little too thin but not obviously so and there was no changing it. The jeans had managed to end up in a pretty uncomfrotable way but Zack wasn't too bothered. He let his hands rest on his thighs and closed his eyes, feeling someone elses push hard onto him. It sounded stupid but he knew when people were looking at him, knew when they were talking about him, thinking about him all of those things if only they were in the same room as him.
The sudden sound of the chair scraping back, the drunken footsteps and the smell of alcohol on breath awoke him from the slightly quiet relaxation. The words hit his face like the day breaks heat when he wasn't under his layer of protective oil puncturing his ears which were rigid from lack of blood and Zack simply looked up at the arithmacy teacher like he'd never seen him in the world. A small nod of his head and a lazy hand gesture.
"Please yourself..."
He let these words slip out of his mouth like nothing cared, he actually felt he was a living corpse forever to be tired, feel physically ill and sick but not able to get rid of the feeling. Zack secretivly ran his tongue slip over his pointed teeth and pressed it harshly against his fangs piercing his tongue. Uusually it would gush down his throat and send a small amount of enery to him but no he was left with thin old, cold blood which tasted revolting and not exacly energizing.
It made him sick to his stomache and it was told by his face, distastefully twisted into a scowl. His hair had stuck to his head and was begining to dry in the sad, sloppy and messy way it had been soaked in. He picked up the bottle in a swift swipe and passed it across the table with a slightly strange smile on his face.
"So Professor never thought you would be the type to come along here..."
He lent on the table again, without much posture or politeness purley because a drunken man wasn't about to critisize him and if he did well Zack wans't in the mood to argue instead he'd probably kill the man. For the first time since he'd been in the pub was actually begining to quieten down, the door had opened and closed about three times leaving a few chairs and tables empty and only a few people actually inside.
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Post by Grace Taelin on Oct 10, 2007 14:17:40 GMT -5
p r o f e s s o r g r a c e
The empty room decided to dance andsway so Grace dropped gratefully into the chair, leaning on the table with his elbows right on the edge. He slipped and nose dived towards the table catching himself at the last moment as he looked up at the dazed looking student before him. Looking up at the student sat before him Grace struggled to put a face to a name muttering, Please, call me Grace... he thought hard, dredging up memories, sure that this boy was not one of his students, Lennox isn't it? Zackary. he smiled to himself, glancing around the all but empty room.
Was he the sort to come here? Maybe not, no. THe tea drinking sofa dwelling arithmancy professor ws not tthe first person you expected to find drinking absinthe in a suspicious and dirty pub. But there again who ever truly fitted their stereotupe, he thought morosely. But he realised that it was question that needed to be answered. Ahhh. he smiled, Each to their own, and anyway, The Three Broomsticks don't like lonely alchoholic types who drink absinthe til they pass out. Hey? he laughed mirthlessly to himself. Grace stared into the wood, finding pictures in the wood. He felt somthing wet upon land on his hand and realised that it was a tear. He brushed it away quicky blinking saying. But what about yourself? You should by allrights be asleep up at the school He gave the boy a smile. Struggling to focus.[/right][/font] |
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Post by Zachary Lennox on Oct 12, 2007 11:25:55 GMT -5
z a c h a r y . l e n n o x The Vampires mind wandered in a strange sort of way, thinking more about his own thoughts instead of others. Even though he could see their lips moving, including Grace's lips, he wasn't listening. Actually he could hear a familiar voice in his head, not as is he was schitzophrenic however but actual telepathic powers were given to vampires. The voice said danger. Yet Zack dismissed it and brought himself back into the room where for the past however long he'd been sat so still he hadn't even been breathing, not that he exactly needed to anyway, his eyes were pulled out of their viscious stare at the wall opposite just to the left of the proffessors head. The light had drained from his eyes leaving them almost completley black with a small grey ring around the pupil, fading straight into black once more possibly with a hint of dark brown or maroon. He rested his hands on the table in a way that in the olden days would have been to make a proposition but he was quite only trying to make sense of what he hadn't heard. He nodded lightly and looked toward the table.
"I could ask you the same, Professor... Yet for your information I rarely spend a night in a bed, most are in the common room and the others well a nice wander to the town is reasonable. Yet I won't tell if you won't tell."
His words distastfully were spat with a slight attidutude toward the drunken character. Zack was actually in one of those highly angered at ease moods and anything he could say spitefully he would even if it wasn't meant to be spiteful at all. The pictures on the wall had begun to either settle their parties, continue drinking windley or already be asleep although the odd few were continually groaning and trying to tell the group in the corner to quieten down. It would have made his lips curl into a grin, smirk, smile yet he simply fell back onto the chair as if he was just thrown there. His clothes had somehow become dryer, being slightly wetter than damp but not quite wet anymore and his hair had dried in it's messy over-face-hanging way to leave him slightly more bedraggled than before and a little annoyed even though there was no way he could get more annoyed and not snap.
His eyes rested on Grace's neck where the artery was thumping wildly yet he tore them from it and looked to the candle stick on the wall which had just dripped the hot wax on his hand yet he made no move to pick it off after it had dried.
"Hear your classes are entertaining from certain sources. My sister was never a fan although she took it for interest and pain of the teacher at the time..."
He chuckled slightly. If anyone had known anything more they would have questioned his quite sedistic humor for the fact Helody was supposed to be dead yet was fit and well (apart from the loss of memory) on his island living there and basically being the queen of it in her own right. Zack felt his heart lurch warning him greatly of lack of blood yet he had no second thought to hurry up and get blood.
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Post by Grace Taelin on Oct 18, 2007 16:15:18 GMT -5
g r a c e [/right]
Alchohol, dulls the mind and muffles the senses. And yet it is the poison of choice. What a funny world it is we live in when a legal pastime is causing yourself severe and irreprable liver damage. What a funny world indeed.
Grace gave the boy a warm smile,
"Oh i wouldn''t dream of telling blood thirsty one"
For even inebriated Grace had a memory and a dash of common sense and now he knew where he had heard the name Zachary Lennox. the boyish looking beast before him was a vampire. And yet for some reason in his dull and deadened senses this did not concern Grace. Not in the slightest. It was an interesting dilemma. Grace swallowed and was suddenly acutely aware of his leadedn heart thumping in his chest and of his adams apple bobbing up and down. He knew the creature would sense this and felt embarassed. So he ignored the feelings.
"Its a wonderful things Arithmancy you know..."
He sighed wistfully.
-lol used the mus up on alice clearly crapeh!-[/font][/right] |
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