Post by lemon on Aug 11, 2008 8:00:31 GMT -8
Name: Lemon
Character: Miles Brentwood
Parents: Roger and Penelope [Clearwater] Brentwood
House: Ravenclaw
Age/Year: 16/6th
Birth gender: male
Sample:
Silence was looming in on her from all angles, threatening to suffocate, to strangle her. It was pressing down on her arms, legs, chest and head, keeping her motionless. She wasn't even sure if she was breathing. Wait, she wasn't even sure if she was awake. Lying there, half-awake, half asleep on her bed, Dreena Gestappe looked like an angel of death. A demon, frozen and trapped by the forces of good, so that she could no longer torment the innocent. Her hair, dyed black in a last attempt to forget the person that she was before, was fanned out around her head unnaturally, as if she was hanging upside down. Her arms were wide, fingers curled to look like claws, and nails painted deep red, like the blood of her prey that could not quite wash off. The rest of her body was rather unremarkable: pale skin, thin lips, slightly chubby around the middle. Her eyelids were fluttering slightly, the only sign that a struggle was going on inside her.
Slowly, her brain was waking up and trying to coax her body to do the same. At first, it was gentle: a light finger movement here, a twitch over there, maybe even a parting of the lips. But as the body became more and more stubborn, the brain took harsher measures. Dreena gasped, sputtering and panting, as her body shot upright. It was a painful experience, one that elicited a groan from the young lady's mouth. But the momentary noise and motion did not hold the silence off. It was on her again quickly, demobilizing her, reminding her. She shook her head and stood up, struggling with all the weight on her chest. Looking at the empty bead, she sighed. The silence had won, she remembered.
She remembered that he had left her, presumably for another woman, or at least that was what the note had said, the note that was still visible on the dresser across the room. Her stomach hurt as she looked at it, so she turned away. Dreena contemplated starting a fire, and throwing it in with the rest of the trash he left here, but she couldn't. She couldn't possibly bring herself to interrupt this cold that was sinking in to her body. It felt too good, refreshing almost. She figured that if she stayed cold long enough, the numbing effect would not only possess her outside, but her insides as well.
Dreena moved to the door, opening it, exiting, and closing it again in a flash. She didn't even know why she slept there, in that room. There were plenty of other rooms in this house, this beautiful house of hers, that once held guests and family alike, but which now stood empty and forgotten. He had taken all their friends, convincing them that she was in the wrong, that she was evil. She scoffed as she started moving down the big, bold staircase. Dreena Gestappe did not need friends and she certainly didn't need a family. She had gotten this far without one, right? All she needed was him...
As she passed through the hallway, she smiled at the pictures on the wall. Or, rather, she smirked knowingly at them, taking some kind of sick pleasure from their smiling faces. She paused in front of one and narrowed her eyes to see more clearly in the semi-darkness. It showed her in a flowing white dress, beaming and waving furiously while her now-ex-husband tried to inch out of the frame. Photo-Dreena was doing a wonderful job of keeping him there, exerting a surprising amount of strength. Real-Dreena frowned slightly. "Just let him go honey. That day is all a lie anyway..." She whispered to the photograph. When Picture-Dreena did not comply, she tore the picture forcefully from the wall, letting it fall to the floor, the glass shattering around her feet. Laughing coldly she kept moving through the house, looking for more things she could destroy.
This is how Dreena's days went: first she immersed in a sullen sadness that overtook her body, and then she was overcome with anger, wanting to hunt, damage, kill. She couldn't take what he had done to her, she couldn't take the fact that he was not there, that he was far away, that he was with someone else. Her eyes alighted on her wand on the kitchen table. She went over to it, picking it up and twirling absentmindedly in her fingers. She headed for the door, the one that led into the overgrown garden and then beyond into the small town. Dreena grinned, feeling the dawn air surround her, hearing cars in the distance. "Let's see what I can torture today..."
Character: Miles Brentwood
Parents: Roger and Penelope [Clearwater] Brentwood
House: Ravenclaw
Age/Year: 16/6th
Birth gender: male
Sample:
Silence was looming in on her from all angles, threatening to suffocate, to strangle her. It was pressing down on her arms, legs, chest and head, keeping her motionless. She wasn't even sure if she was breathing. Wait, she wasn't even sure if she was awake. Lying there, half-awake, half asleep on her bed, Dreena Gestappe looked like an angel of death. A demon, frozen and trapped by the forces of good, so that she could no longer torment the innocent. Her hair, dyed black in a last attempt to forget the person that she was before, was fanned out around her head unnaturally, as if she was hanging upside down. Her arms were wide, fingers curled to look like claws, and nails painted deep red, like the blood of her prey that could not quite wash off. The rest of her body was rather unremarkable: pale skin, thin lips, slightly chubby around the middle. Her eyelids were fluttering slightly, the only sign that a struggle was going on inside her.
Slowly, her brain was waking up and trying to coax her body to do the same. At first, it was gentle: a light finger movement here, a twitch over there, maybe even a parting of the lips. But as the body became more and more stubborn, the brain took harsher measures. Dreena gasped, sputtering and panting, as her body shot upright. It was a painful experience, one that elicited a groan from the young lady's mouth. But the momentary noise and motion did not hold the silence off. It was on her again quickly, demobilizing her, reminding her. She shook her head and stood up, struggling with all the weight on her chest. Looking at the empty bead, she sighed. The silence had won, she remembered.
She remembered that he had left her, presumably for another woman, or at least that was what the note had said, the note that was still visible on the dresser across the room. Her stomach hurt as she looked at it, so she turned away. Dreena contemplated starting a fire, and throwing it in with the rest of the trash he left here, but she couldn't. She couldn't possibly bring herself to interrupt this cold that was sinking in to her body. It felt too good, refreshing almost. She figured that if she stayed cold long enough, the numbing effect would not only possess her outside, but her insides as well.
Dreena moved to the door, opening it, exiting, and closing it again in a flash. She didn't even know why she slept there, in that room. There were plenty of other rooms in this house, this beautiful house of hers, that once held guests and family alike, but which now stood empty and forgotten. He had taken all their friends, convincing them that she was in the wrong, that she was evil. She scoffed as she started moving down the big, bold staircase. Dreena Gestappe did not need friends and she certainly didn't need a family. She had gotten this far without one, right? All she needed was him...
As she passed through the hallway, she smiled at the pictures on the wall. Or, rather, she smirked knowingly at them, taking some kind of sick pleasure from their smiling faces. She paused in front of one and narrowed her eyes to see more clearly in the semi-darkness. It showed her in a flowing white dress, beaming and waving furiously while her now-ex-husband tried to inch out of the frame. Photo-Dreena was doing a wonderful job of keeping him there, exerting a surprising amount of strength. Real-Dreena frowned slightly. "Just let him go honey. That day is all a lie anyway..." She whispered to the photograph. When Picture-Dreena did not comply, she tore the picture forcefully from the wall, letting it fall to the floor, the glass shattering around her feet. Laughing coldly she kept moving through the house, looking for more things she could destroy.
This is how Dreena's days went: first she immersed in a sullen sadness that overtook her body, and then she was overcome with anger, wanting to hunt, damage, kill. She couldn't take what he had done to her, she couldn't take the fact that he was not there, that he was far away, that he was with someone else. Her eyes alighted on her wand on the kitchen table. She went over to it, picking it up and twirling absentmindedly in her fingers. She headed for the door, the one that led into the overgrown garden and then beyond into the small town. Dreena grinned, feeling the dawn air surround her, hearing cars in the distance. "Let's see what I can torture today..."