Yelena York II
Try not to eat your mail dear
Tue Mar 4, 2014 01:34

Easily lost in her own little world, filled to the brim and splashing over with high tides and trade winds, drunken pirates tangled through her hair, stumbling across her scalp and spilling rum inside her ear, it was a small miracle Lena avoided bumping into anyone as she walked through the hallways, her shoulder brushing up against stone. Until she reached the library, she never looked up from the book held up against her face, occasionally reaching up to push back on the violet rimmed glasses threatening to slip off her nose.

She could feel it on her skin, a unique flush of warmth emitted from dusty scrolls and the quiet scratch of quills attacking crinkled parchment paper. A heady mist of mingled scents, each one unique and complementing the other. Lena's senses were attuned to the library in a way her conscious mind could not fathom, gently urging her to turn, and cross the boundary from stone tiles to carpet.

Samuel cried out, but his warning came too late. The sea churned with blood and fire, an ancient rage boiling just beneath the surface, rising with the bubbles. In a moment of strange and sudden clarity, Emanuel knew he was doomed, and knew he deserved it, a fitting fate for the son of a father he'd never wanted, refused to claim, but whose footsteps he'd unwittingly followed. His father who had died buried in gold, suffocated by the weight of his own treasure, the culmination of all his basest desires, a trickle of wine slipping through the cracks, squeezed through hard edges, painting his father's lips in a shade of red that mocked vibrancy, teasing salvation and the taste of Eden.

Lena's breath grew shallow, brow knitted in concern, struggling to prevent her gaze from darting down a few paragraphs, just to make sure Emanuel wouldn't die by the end of the chapter. The tempation was growing, a burn raked across her skin, a rash developing just behind her darkened eyes. But she was saved from cheating by a hard bump against her thigh, accidentally walking into a table, an undignified yelp escaping her before she could prevent it.

"Ow." She hissed, pink lips dipped into a pout, shaken from her high seas adventure, the hard corner of a wooden desk leaving its mark on her unprotected thigh, guarded only by the thin material of her silver school robes. A foul word was half formed in her throat, before her gaze leveled above the table, and registered an occupant.

"Fuc - I - oh. Hi." Lena's chocolate gaze widened behind her glasses, a plastic casing she loathed and rarely allowed upon her face except when she desired to read absent the dull ache pounding at the back of her head. "Lo siento, I did not mean to disturb you Miss Blackburn!"

The older girl most likely did not know who she was. Lena might have drifted beneath her radar, grazing the bare edges when they participated in theater together, but Lena had been adrift within the orchestra, unremarkable on the piano, and expressly forbidden by both Niccolò and Paulo to not approach them in public unless absolutely necessary. But Lena knew Veronika Blackburn as Draco's enthusiastic mascot, and from a few pictures Niccolò had strung up on his bedroom wall from summers past, before they'd disappeared in an a fire that had inexplicably scorched only those featuring Veronika.

"Sorry again!" Lena backed away, unconsciously rubbing the side of her thigh, and made to move past the table before the seventh year surprised her by calling her back.

"Tell me which one to open first. I'm too nervous to pick. You do it."

Lena blinked, confused, before glancing down at the envelopes spread across the wooden surface, walking back towards the table and leaning over the older girl's shoulder. "Oh goodness," She gasped softly, her gaze widening to comical circumference. She knew instantly what Veronika must be struggling with, at seventeen, ready to graduate, as beautiful as she was and commonly known to be generally amicable. "Are these your only marriage proposals?"

  • Tastes like successIka Blackburn, Mon Mar 3 15:55
    All six of the owls Ika was expecting arrived in the same week. Under normal conditions, she would’ve opened them all right away—Ika wasn’t the most patient Draco—but this week, she was under “one... more
    • Try not to eat your mail dear — Yelena York II, Tue Mar 4 01:34
      • Thanks for the adviceIka, Tue Mar 4 02:31
        Ika couldn’t quite remember now—it was hard to keep track of sort of unrelated events from a few years ago. But she thought that around the time Yelena York (or Lena, she supposed—Nicco called his... more
        • You ought to take itLena, Tue Mar 4 03:24
          Lena tucked a loose curl behind her ear, her free arm hugging the thick novel against her breast, gazing critically at the envelopes, all face down and spread before Veronika. "Oh yes, it's not at... more
          • Paper is probably bad for digestionIka, Tue Mar 4 22:22
            Clearing the confusion only took a few seconds—and it wasn’t Lena’s fault, really, that she hadn’t immediately assumed Ika was reviewing colleges. That said, Lena should know Ika was Muggleborn and... more
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