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Post by Livinia Lange on Dec 29, 2008 12:25:39 GMT -5
Twas three weeks before Christmas and Livinia Lange was up on a stool in the middle of the common room overseeing the decorating process for her favorite Holiday. She watched with a careful and artistic eye as she instructed two first years on hanging the garland along the fireplace.
"No, you twat! Get a stool and pin that up higher," She snapped. The boy gave her a glare but went off to find a stool anyway. There was his favorite toy she'd taken away from him or whatever it was in it for him if he'd helped her. His goon was just doing it because he had told him too.
Having a minor patience problem, Liv saw fit to step down and move her stool to the fire place, deciding she could do a better job herself. First years seemed to get stupider with every new batch. With a flick of her wand she had her garland where she wanted it and was stepping down with satisfaction.
She'd always had a knack for decorating and had overseen the decorating process at her own home. She had felt it her duty to bring her particular gift to her home away from home.
Smoothing out her grey skirt and making sure her black turtle neck was still in order before turning to look at the bare Christmas Tree in the corner of the room. It was always the duty of the Seventh years to decorate the common room Christmas tree. This set her in another foul mood. People like Jonathan Macnair would be decorating the Christmas tree. A scowl graced her face and she had to turn away.
With a sigh, she returned her stool to a side wall before lowering herself into an armchair, sitting on the very edge of it. She lifted the chocolate box she had sat down earlier towards her, extracting a lovely little white chocolate morsel and popping it into her mouth before glancing around the almost deserted common room. Where was everybody?
Ever since her lovely little encounter with Fred Weasley she had been more and more alone. For once she had no earthly idea where Kamilla was and she had eaten dinner by herself. She gave a self-pitying sigh. And there was a new boy who wasn't really new to her that she hadn't introduced herself to yet. She felt like she was losing her edge. Maybe she was...
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Post by Søren Oden Karkaroff on Dec 30, 2008 1:45:28 GMT -5
   there is an art, to falling apart...[/size][/font] Christmas was not Søren's favourite holiday. There was just something about it that made his cheeks turn three shades of green. Maybe it was the whole "Santa Claus" concept, or the lame carols that beat his ears into submission year after year until they bled. The idea of an elderly obese man dressed in bright red singing about a snowman which somehow came to life freaked him out a little.
Maybe that was the reason... but not quite. Søren's real reason for disliking Christmas made him feel hollow inside. Christmas was something to be celebrated with family. And since Søren hadn't one, and his pack didn't acknowledge anything remotely humanoid, this time of year made him feel angry, alone, and resentful.
So when Søren entered the common room to find decorations up and around his head, his eyes tinged a little red. He shook the anger from his visage, placing his hand over the flask hidden in the pocket of his baggy jeans for support. To the onlooker, he must have look like he was having a mild heart attack. He straightened his Motley Crüe t-shirt, hoping no one noticed.
Despite the fact that is was Christmas, the seventh years were doing a lovely job decorating. The idea of Jon in a Santa cap, sipping cocoa with marshmallows and putting tinsel on a tree made Søren chuckle.
Someone was watching him. Søren turned to meet a set of piercing, icy blue eyes. |
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Post by Livinia Lange on Dec 31, 2008 12:38:58 GMT -5
A smirk slid onto pink lips when blue eyes saw what was before her. That was someone she hadn't seen in years. Boy, he had grown up. Søren Greyback. This was going to make for an interesting conversation, she knew it. The last time she had seen him she was six and he was telling her to leave him alone so he could study.
Most would think that someone wouldn't remember someone else from that long ago after that many years out of touch with him. But, Liv did. She would know those eyes from anywhere
"Well, well, well. Look what the cat's dragged in," she said, rising to her feet with an air of grace that could only be achieved through endless lessons on being the perfect socialite. A curious glint came to her eye. My, my he wasn't a skinny little sliver of a boy anymore.
She had watched him enter the portrait, saw his facial expression morph into anger, his sudden stiffness, and finally the shake to make it all go away. That was interesting to say the least. What could possibly be making him angry? "You've grown up quite a bit, Søren," |
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Post by Søren Oden Karkaroff on Jan 2, 2009 4:07:37 GMT -5
my heart's a scar now... thick skin will never mend... [/size][/font] Søren knew this face. It had been many years since he had seen it last... but he knew it then and he knew it now. Livinia Lange. Time hadn't changed her much. Her eyes were brighter, her features sharper, and she was missing the curiosity that occupied every child's eyes. It had been replaced by high intellect, cool scrutiny and a confident front. She took excellent care of herself, and puberty had been kind to her. She was beautiful, sophisticated... she looked much older than her years.
Søren couldn't help but find himself amused. He took in her scent, letting all the memories of his childhood flood his brain. The constant, and never ending 'Søren, let's go outside!' and 'Søren, play with me!' was something he couldn't forget. Summers in the home of Livinia Lange... Søren was sure many males would kill to have that same privilege.
Thinking about his own attire compared to hers, Søren suddenly felt self-conscious at how under dressed he was. He smiled sheepishly. "Livinia, I could say the same for you. You look beautiful. It's been a long time, how are you? Still commanding the troops as always?[/color]" Søren let out a laugh, noticing the two first years returning to their works with the decorations. [/size][/font] |
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Post by Kamilla Lestrange on Jan 4, 2009 0:42:31 GMT -5
"What the bloody hell is this?" Kamilla barked at two scurrying first years whose bodies were adorned with tacky Christmas decorations. She had climbed through the dungeon hole to retreat to a Slytherin palace - not to be suffocated by cheery holiday music and plastic mistletoe. Kamilla Lestrange was not a sixteen year old girl who welcomed Christmas. The popular holiday had never been accepted in the Lestrange household and it never would be. Kamilla had been molded to believe that the holiday was superfluous. It was an excellent money vortex - it practically sucked muggle's wallets dry.
And Christmas was a religious holiday. And religion and witchcraft did not mesh well together. Especially when it was forced to inhabit such a tiny body like Kamilla's. Bellatrix was atheist, refusing to acknowledge that muggles had changed. She believed that they were still ignorant and foolish; she assumed that they were pyromaniacs searching for witches and wizards to burn. She had raised Rastaban with the same believes and Marcella had been more than happy to adapt the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange's ideologies.
And Kamilla, being born into such a biased household, was expected to trust fully in the opinions that household held. And that was why, it wasn't unusual to see her commanding the first years to take down the garish decorations. The young Slytherin found Christmas so repulsing that she even refused to touch the wreaths and banners that changed the atmosphere of the entire common room.
"YOU!
[/color] Kamilla suddenly snapped, pointing at the shorter of the two first years. The blond boy glanced at her nervously with widened blue eyes. He whimpered, winced as Kamilla sarcastically asked, "Remind me what we are!" He whispered their house name, hissing timidly as if he were a harmless garden snake. Kamilla's lips tugged and pulled into a slight smile and her voice softened. "NO. We're witches, wizards, darling. And that is why we shouldn't celebrate such an atrocious holiday. Really. The people who started this holiday burned our ancestors!" She complained loudly. [/blockquote][/size] |
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Post by Livinia Lange on Jan 4, 2009 11:12:41 GMT -5
A pattened Livinia Lange scowl came to the pretty girl's face. She had physically stiffened as she heard Kamilla bark at her first years. She was waiting for the other witch to have them tear down her decorations. Liv wouldn't have been surprised.
Her tiny, white fist actually curled as she watched through her perephial vision Kamilla yelling at the two first years. Liv knew that Kamilla's family didn't like the holdiays but her family embraced it, adored it. Everyone was so much happier around Christmas. There was less fighting. Liv got to be in charge over something and here Kamilla was spoiling her holiday cheer. The least she could do is keep her idiotic beliefs about Christmas to herself and let the other people who like Christmas celebrate it.
She turned her attention back towards the boy in front of her. She had once had a childhood crush on him very long ago, but not now. Now she liked Fred and that was a whole lot more like than she had given Soren.
"Thank you,Søren," she said rather quietly now. Maybe Kamilla would just go on to bed and Liv wouldn't have to lose her temper with her. Losing her temper was something that rarely happened to Livinia, but sometimes she did and it was never pretty. You could tell she was trying to hold it in. "I've been fine. And yes. Someone has to do it. Just call me General." |
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Post by Søren Oden Karkaroff on Jan 9, 2009 0:47:13 GMT -5
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Post by Livinia Lange on Jan 9, 2009 18:09:36 GMT -5
Liv pulled her face back to what it was supposed to be all smiles and pleasant charm. She would ignore Kamilla for now. She would just put them back up later herself. Those kids were trembling in fear anyway. She waved them off without looking at them. They were doing a shotty job anyway.
"I'm beyond ready for the holidays," she replied a spark of excitement hitting in her. " My favorite time of year if you remember. But, anyway, I was going to seek you out at dinner. Mother would like to extend the invatation for you to stay with us over break if it is to far to rejoin your father. No one wants to spend their Christmas in a dark and dreary basement such as this one."
She gave a sigh, calming herself and letting her fists uncurl. She brought her arms up and crossed them, pulling her wand out discreetly. Those decorations were going to stay up if she had anything to do with it. She knew she was acting like a child, but she had spent all afternoon on them. She wasn't having them taken down without a fight. Another sigh pushed it's way through her teeth and she was calm.
"Even if some people, like yourself, don't like Christmas,"she said, intuitive smile coming on her face. "Don't even try to deny it, Søren, I can tell a Scrooge when I see one." She nodded pointedly over her shoulder at her best friend. |
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Post by Søren Oden Karkaroff on Jan 11, 2009 21:27:28 GMT -5
dead memories in my heart... dead visions in your name... [/size][/font] Søren felt a lump form in his chest. His father. Of course it would be too far for Fenrir... Fenir was on an entirely different continent the last time he and Søren had spoken. He had been laying ruin to muggle villages in Africa, allowing the local predators to take the heat for it. He had tried to get Søren to join him once more, trying to convince him that the entire school idea was still a farce and he should come back to where he belonged.
Søren gritted his teeth at the memory. The conversation had ended in an argument, as it often did when it came to Søren's schooling. They hadn't spoken since, and Søren was completely alright with that fact... the less he thought of father, the easier it was to relax and go with the flow of things.
"I'm no Scrooge. I just believe that Christmas is a family affair, and since my 'family,' isn't the most," Søren paused to find the word, "conventional family, I've never celebrated it. I'm sure that when the day comes I have my own family... we'll have ourselves a Christmas."
Søren thought for a moment. Christmas wouldn't be so bad with Livinia.... he might even enjoy himself. It would be better than just a boring old day alone in the flat. London was nice, but had nothing that could hold his attention. "Please tell your mother I'd be glad to join your family for the break... and I appreciate the fact that she thought of me."[/size] |
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Post by Livinia Lange on Jan 17, 2009 11:02:45 GMT -5
"Please tell your mother I'd be glad to join your family for the break... and I appreciate the fact that she thought of me."
"It is our pleasure, Søren," Liv replied, geniunely smiling. "I'm pretty sure Wes would like some company as well. "
She would also look forward to having a werewolf and a vampire in the same house. That would make things really interesting for her. At least Christmas wouldn't be dull this year or tense with Norma spending her whole Christmas break there. Or sad because she was being seperated from Fred before she could attempt to work her whiles on him. But, her irratated look returned to her when she remembered Kamilla was in the room.
"NO. We're witches, wizards, darling. And that is why we shouldn't celebrate such an atrocious holiday. Really. The people who started this holiday burned our ancestors!"
She whirled around, the statement finally processing, "I see you haven't been paying attention in history of magic! The muggles who supposedly burned our ancestors burned more muggles than they did actual witches because witches are better at disguising themselves than muggle wannabees! And if you haven't noticed, there are no more witch hunts!"
It was a rare occasion when Livinia stood up to Kamilla. She was angry though. Kamilla's washed out ideals that weren't even her own were petty and irrational. That's the past, this is the future. Those statements about Christmas came out of the mouth of her insane grandmother that had been in Azkaban and would say anything to get in the Dark Lord's favor. If he had wished it she would have said "Oh, I'm a pumpkin head watch me turn orange and twirl around" or something along the lines of that. That is what Livinia's mother told her about the great Bellatrix Black.
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Post by Søren Oden Karkaroff on Jan 18, 2009 15:53:22 GMT -5
There was a dream that once was mine...
But now it seems it has passed with time. [/size][/font] Søren felt his stomach knot up. Wes Borgin. He was the only 'Wes' that Søren knew of. The vampire. Søren felt his lip curl up on his teeth. He'd only caught hints of the boy's scent upon passing him in the halls... but Søren knew what he was.
There was always argument among the pack about these beings, and Søren was on the fence. Some of the pack brothers felt that because vampires and werewolves shared the same prey, we could get along and be friends. Others saw them as leeches and maintained that they should be eradicated. Fenrir said that as long as they weren't on pack territory, the relationship was civil.
Søren made a decision. He would be nice to this vampire, this Wes Borgin, and maybe perhaps befriend him. But the moment Wes started in on what was Søren's... Clare, for instance... things would become a lot more hairy around Hogwarts. Secrecy be damned. When it came to Clare, Søren's mind was black and white. Mess with the bull, you get the horns... mess with the werewolf's intended, you get your skull crushed.
"I see you haven't been paying attention in history of magic! The muggles who supposedly burned our ancestors burned more muggles than they did actual witches because witches are better at disguising themselves than muggle wannabees! And if you haven't noticed, there are no more witch hunts!"
Søren had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Livinia was amusing when she was angry. This small fury of fists and dark brown hair... poor Kamilla. Søren choked on his laughter and masked it with a cough. Poor Kamilla. [/size] |
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