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A Prayer for the Wild at Heart
Topic Started: Jul 18 2011, 12:11 AM (524 Views)
Danielle Barret
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Luckily, it wasn't a particularly cold September night and the sky was cloudless, giving view to millions of stars in the darkness. Dany had left the lights of the castle behind her a while ago now and technically it was much too late to be out and about. Not that she had ever bothered much with curfew in her six years at Hogwarts; she certainly wouldn't start now. Sighing softly as she stared at the night sky above her, she drew the hood of her cloack tighter around her head, shifting slightly on the grass to get more comfortable. She had no idea why she'd chosen the quidditch pitch of all places, except that the forest wasn't an option because you couldn't see the stars and the lake was sometimes occupied by snogging couples. So, the quidditch pitch, it was. Empty and lonely by night, it was the perfect place to just escape from the castle that seemed confining tonight.

Absentmindedly she wiped at the corner of her eyes, green eyes still drawn to the stars. She simply couldn't sleep. Being in the dungeons had felt suffocating, the girls dorm dark and stuffy with just too many people around. She'd fallen asleep earlier that night but the dreams she'd had made her wake up feeling nauseous and jittery and not very much like her usual self. Drawing her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth, she frowned at herself, then sighed again, her hand going in search for the pack of cigarettes she had brought out along with her.

Musing over the fact that it was yet another thing she seemed to have in common with her cousin, it didn't stop her from putting the cigarette to her lips and lighting it with a softly murmured spell. Settling back into the grass, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to think about the fact that in less than a day she'd have to go to Hogsmead and train. The dreams had left her feeling much more fragile than she would have liked, even though she knew she'd feel better and back to normal in just a couple of hours.
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Jadon Gates
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He grumbled as he walked to the castle from the forest, his cloak falling heavily around him. He was spattered with blood, his sword in his hand - because his hand had cramped around it - as he walked. He was fairly certain that no one could see the blood on his face because of his hood, and that the cloak itself was black enough to hide the rest. The white cross on his cloak likely had blood spattered across it too, and he hadn't bothered to put the obfuscation charm back on it. He strode through the pitch with purpose, primarily at this point to get a bath. He almost missed the soft flair of light and tell tale glow of a cigarette.

He was more tired than he cared to admit; Harley sure knew her techniques well. He'd finally had to succumb to the fact that an exorcism was the only way to shove those beasts back where they came from. He wasn't formally trained in that, but he was glad he'd taken it upon himself to learn while he'd been in Italy. His tiredness seeped into his bones, and while he knew that no teacher would be out here smoking like that, he felt it best to kept moving, hoping that the dark would keep him mostly invisible and that whomever it was wouldn't notice a broadsword walking itself across the quidditch pitch.
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Danielle Barret
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She concentrated on the stars above her long enough until they began to blur, simply allowing herself to smoke in silent pleasure. It was a bad habit, Dany knew, but of the ones she had, she supposed it was still one of the healthier ones, which she supposed said a lot about her life. Grinning somewhat tiredly and not less ironically at that thought, she almost missed the gleaming something that suddenly moved at the corner of her vision. For a moment she thought she had managed to fall asleep and was dreaming again before she realized that -- no, something was definitely going on on that no longer empty pitch of hers. Stiffening slightly in the grass, she became absolutely still before her gaze shifted towards the source of movement in the darkness around her.

She was only met with darkness first until her eyes adjusted and she could make out a figure cloaked in black walking across the pitch, not too far away from her. Curious, her gaze caught sight of the white cross on the black cloak, a cross that was definitely marred by something, and the gleaming of the sword held in the person's hand. Frowning, she moved slightly, bringing the cigarette to her lips as she wondered if she had been detected. She couldn't make out the person's identity but whoever it was seemed tired enough to ignore her and carry on on his way, even if he had known of her presence.

Half a mind to let the figure move away from her -- she wasn't in the mood for any kind of company anyway -- her curiosity still got the better of her as something nudged her at the sight of the white symbol adorning the person's cloak. She'd seen that symbol before, or at least drawings of it in a book. "You seem to have had quite the night, lone ranger," she commented sarcastically into the direction of the cloaked person, her own face covered in shadows though curls of her red hair were peeking out of her hood and falling teasingly over the front of her cloak. Her voice was sharp in the silence of the night and her eyes lingered on what she now recognized as spattered blood on whoever it was that had joined her on the pitch.
Edited by Danielle Barret, Jul 18 2011, 04:45 PM.
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Jadon Gates
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He kept walking, hoping that the other would just let him go by. He'd seen the posture stiffen, and against the glow from the cigarette he'd noted the red curls. He didn't like where this twist of fate was heading. There were plenty of girls at school with red hair, he told himself. Of course, it would be his luck to meet with his "savior" out here on the pitch while he was covered in blood. There would be no reason to assume it was her, and that she would stop him. Should it be anyone else, however, he was fairly certain he'd be stopped. The person took another drag and he almost stopped to wait, but didn't bother.

Then she spoke. He could either keep going and let her wonder who the hell he was, or he could let that pretty little nice guy reputation he'd built up get torn down in one go. His voice would be rough from all of the heavy breathing he'd done earlier, but he didn't know if it would be enough to mask his identity. By the time he'd thought this all out, he'd stopped. Turning just his head toward her, he replied despite his voice and throat protesting with pain. "I'm not alone right now, am I?" While he spoke, he worked his hand around the grip of his sword; it would do him no good if he had to use it like that. He hoped he wouldn't need to use it, and that they could simply part or move beyond standing there in the dark. Though, he has a sneaking suspicion the dark was probably a good thing for him right this moment.

He settled and waited to see what she would do, his tiredness seeming to evaporate as anticipation and adrenaline started a course through his veins. He changed his grip on his sword, thumb running over the pommel for just a moment. The motion settled his mind and the cool steel eased his nerves. He was glad then, that she couldn't see his face just yet, and that his cloak hood was as large as it was. Not that she wasn't a smart enough girl to connect his cross to the one on his cloak, but it was an occult symbol too. She'd have plenty of ways to connect the dots without seeing his face or recognizing his voice.
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Danielle Barret
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It seemed she had shot the person's intention to get to the castle undisturbed all to hell with her acknowledgement of his presence. There was something in the stranger's step that suggested hesitation on his part before he had stopped altogether. Her lips curled slightly upwards though in the cool light of the stars the smile lacked any warmth. Dany's body was tense in preparation and her wand suddenly seemed heavy against her side and underneath her cloak. She studied the figure, its broad shoulders letting her know that he was male even before his rough voice cut through the air between them.

His head turned towards her but his face stayed hidden beneath the shadows of his hood. There was nothing about him she recognized though the working of his hand around the grip of his sword was easily detected, making her eyes narrow slightly. Her body remained on the ground though her head was screaming at her in warning; lying down wasn't the best position to defend oneself, after all. There was no further action from the stranger though, except that he changed his grip on the sword again. Dany studied the blood spattered cross as well as sword for another moment before deciding to reply.

"Bad luck, isn't it?" There was no compassion in that drawl of hers though she'd been in his situation. He certainly hadn't seemed in the mood for companionship, or even an onlooker, and Dany could understand all too well. Being caught with blood all over oneself practically screamed 'up to no good' and if he was a student, he'd certainly be in a lot of trouble if he managed to run into someone who would tell on him. She almost snorted at the idea, then paused.

He'd been coming from the direction of the forest, so he'd either just murdered someone in cold blood or had been playing with one of the many creatures in it; either way he seemed to have had quite a rough night if he was careless enough not to get the blood off of him before heading back. She could relate to that too, that carelessness. Still, playing the dark knight past midnight with swords and symbols covered in blood wasn't something --

She exhaled the smoke, breaking off mid-thought. He was still looking in her direction, as if waiting. She studied him again -- the broad shoulders, the cross adorning his cloak and the sword in his grip -- before she looked away, her gaze settling on the stars somewhere above him. A chuckle escaped her mouth, though it seemed almost sinister in the quiet of the night. "You might want to obscure that blood," she voiced out loud as she looked at him again, "before you get back to the castle. Most people will care about its sight a lot more than I do."
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Jadon Gates
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Jadon silently cursed himself for faltering in his step at the sight of someone else. Had it been himself lying there, he'd have simply asked who they were and where they were going. Threat assessment and all that. But she hadn't bothered, and he kept himself where he was. The tension in her was not lost on him, and it was something that few wizards ever learned to keep lax. Not that he'd managed a good job of it himself, considering he'd had to work out a cramp in his hand just to move his grip on his blade. It was rather pathetic. But he'd not been run ragged like that in a long, long while.

It was a pleasant relief that she didn't move, honestly. He could have just as easily run her through where she lay, but that would have been bad manners. There was a moment of silence between them as she looked at him, at least she assumed she was since her eyes were dark in his direction. He was itching to just drop his blade in the ground, but his training wouldn't let him; that was no way to treat a trusted companion. He'd no sooner do that than strike a woman in anger. Inhaling, he took a breath through that raw throat and barely managed to keep from cringing. He did swallow, in a vain attempt to ease the dryness he felt.

Her comment was a bit on the money, but he wasn't bothered by it. It was nice to see her how she was to everyone else. Their roles were reversed this time. He didn't have a mask on, and she did. And yet, despite this cold version of her that really didn't seem to care that he had blood all over him was intriguing. The thought made him smile; she'd been bothered by the assessment of interest earlier in the week. He was glad his hood shadowed his face. There would be no reason for her to like him at that point. Or beyond really. "There's no such thing as good luck," he replied, fairly certain that his smile could be heard in his voice.

She was looking at him again, probably wondering who he'd chopped to bits with his sword. Well... she could keep wondering that. There was no reason why he should even be standing here talking to her. Okay, there was one. And despite that, he was still tempted to reveal himself. The chuckle that left her throat was lovely, if evil sounding and he was grinning to himself again. "I'll take that under advisement, Danielle." .... Well, he hadn't meant to say her name. He raised his sword, sheathing it. He could probably get away with taking his hood off too, out here. The pitch was dark enough and the stars were conspicuously faint. Perhaps he'd just walk over there into the light and let his cloak do its magic, and stand to wait for her like he had before. "I'm sure someone is missing you in that castle."
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Danielle Barret
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They kept looking into the other's direction a bit more though, really, she could not make out his expression or even much of his movements. She doubted that he could either. Still, her suspicion grew as he remained standing where he was and the reason why she'd chuckled at him in the first place came back to her rather easily -- she might not have seen his face but she remembered the conversation she'd shared with the seventh year Gryffindor at the start of the week. His belief in Christianity, his part in some kind of religious Order and, ironically, his broad shoulders -- all things that seemed too suspiciously fitting for the young man in front of her to be a coincidence. Of course, the blood splatters stood in stark contrast to what he had appeared to be in the library, yet they were all wearing masks one way or another, so it would not surprise her too much if he really turned out to be the kind, smiling Gryffindor she had met.

She did not voice her agreement with him as he said there was no such thing as good luck, though it did not mean that she agreed with him any less. Dany herself didn't believe in luck -- and certainly not in good luck. The smile could be heard in his voice but she did not react to that either, still unmoving, waiting for something though she herself wasn't entirely sure for what exactly.

Then he said her name and sheated his sword and the suspicion of his identity turned into confirmation. Well, she supposed this was a new turn of events and put him in a different light than the conversation in the library had done. Instead of being put off by this new revelation about him, she found herself intrigued and suddenly wondered if it was only his cloak that was covered in blood or if there was a reason he had not yet taken off his hood. "You should." His last words made her snort though she did not greet him with the light and teasing aloofness she'd let him see in the library; they weren't in the right place for that and she wasn't necessarily in the mood. Sometimes it was just easier to be her cold little self, instead of the soft girl she sometimes became.

"I seriously doubt that," she commented dryly, voice still sharp in the air of the night. And it was the truth -- she did not have any friends or lovers who'd be waiting for her or wondering why she hadn't gone back yet. She was truly alone at Hogwarts and sharing this place with him made it all the more clear to her. "Except, maybe, the warmth of my bed." Well, not that she wanted to go back to it. She wouldn't be able to find any sleep there, not tonight at least, and her bed nowadays seemed either too suffocating or too lonely. There was no inbetween. It also brought back a lot of memories when neither had been the case. Dany did not think she could face those memories tonight, much less sleep in them.
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Jadon Gates
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Well, he was fairly certain he'd completely given himself away. Though, she would likely be the only one to figure out all the little clues, aside from his build, and put them together. He didn't bother taking her words under advisement as he started walking again. She would figure out why here in a moment. He didn't mind her cold demeanor, rather expected it, actually. One couldn't be soft and kind all the time.

He chuckled at her comment about no one looking for her. "Could be a prefect or a Head of House," he replied, making every effort not to sound haughty. He stepped into the light from the castle and out of the pitch. The cloak seemed to shimmer a bit, then the blood seemed to evaporate off him in large globs, then the cloak itself followed suit. He was dressed similarly to the day they'd met and appeared to be perfectly clean in every respect of the word. Turning, he looked back at her. He didn't comment on the warmth of her bed, knowing that if she was out here it was probably empty, at least for tonight.

He watched her for a moment, then said, "Have a good evening." He hesitated just a second as he turned back toward the castle, knowing it was silly of him to want to ask if she'd care for company. If she was out here smoking and staring at the stars alone, then she probably wanted to be alone. And he figured that she'd stop him if she wanted his company. Danielle wasn't the type to just sit by and let something she wanted go by the wayside, or, at least, that was his impression of her.
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Danielle Barret
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His reply didn't faze her, haughty as it might have appeared, and instead she simply bit back the urge to snort another time. Yeah, that was even more unlikely than someone else looking for her. Surely, Slytherin prefects had better things to do than go looking for Danielle Barret in the middle of the night and Snape -- well, Snape couldn't really care less about her, could he? She'd be sorely disappointed if the Potions master would go hunting for 17-year-old Barret girls on the grounds and if he was indeed doing anything as ridiculous as watching out for students ignoring curfew, Snape wouldn't start in his own house but rather try and catch some Gryffindor out of bed and wandering about.

So Dany didn't say anything to Jadon in return, but instead watched him as he stepped into the light, his cloak shimmering a bit before vanishing altogether, along with the splatters of blood she'd witnessed on him beforehand. He was looking back at her now, watching. As he bid her good evening, she inwardly shrugged but didn't bother stopping herself from muttering "not likely" even as he turned back toward the castle and she in turn turned back to watch the stars.

The silence enveloped her again and for a moment it was all well and good before she suddenly felt rather lonely, something she hadn't feel prior to their encounter. Slightly annoyed at herself for the absurd emotion, she let out a deep breath, realizing her cigarette had gone out. She stubbed the end of it into the ground beside her, perhaps with a little more satisfaction than such a mundane action should have brought her, and swallowed, her jaw tense. Drinking herself into a stupor suddenly sounded a lot more appealing than that familiar feeling crawling beneath her skin, the one that - if it came to her - always came in full force. She wasn't only utterly alone in this, but utterly lonely as well.

The sadness she felt at that thought was horrifying as it always was, she would never grow used to it but she reminded herself that once Jadon was out of her sight completely, she'd deal with it as she always did. It's better this way, she reminded herself sharply, or tried to at least, don't make the same mistakes again.
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Jadon Gates
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He didn't bother to explain himself; that would just cause more strife than was really necessary over so pointless a trifle. He kept going, but he heard her next words and almost stopped. But he forced himself to keep going. She was so bitter and upset about things. And it seemed she was shouldering them alone - whatever they were. He found that he'd come to a stop about halfway back to the castle, feet moving of their own accord as he wondered what had driven her to this point. Against his better judgement, he turned back to the pitch. Tired as he was, he found himself running in case she'd decided to get up and go somewhere else.

He came around the Slytherin tower, fingers dragging across the wood planks as he found the corner. His breath was coming a little harder than it should have been, but he was tired from earlier. His eyes searched for her just long enough to adjust, and when they found her he asked between breaths, "What happened to you?" He was pretty sure that his voice sounded pathetically helpless when he spoke, but he was worried though he wasn't sure why.

After a moment he said, "I know you probably want to be alone out here. And that if you wanted company it wouldn't be a Gryffindor. But if you do find that you want company, someone one to vent at, I'll listen. Or sit there and pick at the grass, whatever. You don't have to be alone while you're shouldering whatever it is that made you feel like this." He finally got his breath under control - speaking was lovely for that - and settled a moment in preparation for her to tell him that she didn't need or want company and that he should get lost. He'd said what he needed to and hoped that she'd listened to at least part of it and not just between the lines where assumptions and inferred accusations lay.
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