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Post by Giselle Blanc on Jan 19, 2009 16:38:37 GMT -5
«---G i s s e l l e---»Something's getting in the way Something's just about to b r e a k[/font][/color] The blonde-haired beauty awoke several times in the middle of the night, the navy sheets wrapped like a vice around her small frame, and her pale face glistening with sweat. Every time she woke, she vowed not to close her eyes and sleep again, but the darkness would always consume her and pull her back in.
Giselle was used to having rough nights. It was hard for her, though it had been years since she had seen her... Since she had seen Claude. But the fact that she never saw the man whose blood ran through her veins in real life didn't mean it would stop him from coming to her in her dreams.
They were almost always the same. Very vivid and colorful and always filled with the same fear and disgust. She would thrash in the sheets of her bed as he would reach out a pale hand toward her, a crooked grin on his face, whispering the same words in the same language.
Venez ici, mon bonbon.
Come here, my sweet. Come here, my sweet.
"Come 'ere, my sweet," Giselle said out loud, hoping that this would reverse everything inside of her. Yet, knowing that it wouldn't, she still cringed at hearing the words in English in her own voice. The fact didn't change: Those words, put together like that, would always send an evil electric current through her body, and she would never be able to fight them off.
She closed her eyes and tried to erase her mind of the nightmares. Claude Blanc was not at Hogwarts, and he could not harm her. Giselle was far away from France, located in the wonderful smelling gardens, lying on her back on a cold marble bench. The fact that she was shaking did not seem to bother her; She knew that she was well dressed for the cold and she was simply shaking due to the dwelling thoughts inside her own brain.
Knowing that nothing would erase the thoughts forever, Giselle opened her gray-blue eyes to the sky before quickly sitting up. If she could not kill off the thoughts for a life time, she could at least banish them for now. She let her arm fall to the ground, groping for the one thing that would allow her some comfort while her lovely cat Isabelle was out hunting; The beautiful violin made of walnut wood.
She caressed the smooth instrument that lay on her lap, letting the fine touch warm her fingers before bringing it to her chin. And then she rose the arm that was holding the bow, and slowly brought it down to the violin, starting a grim song of pain and misery. If she would not think the thoughts, she would let them come out through music.
The music would speak for her, yet it added a whole new beauty. The thoughts, left untouched in her head, were dirty and poisonous. But now... Now that they were being brought out through music, the thoughts were painful, yet beautiful at the same time.
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Post by Wes Borgin on Jan 21, 2009 23:14:45 GMT -5
Wes gave a sigh as he watched the first aura of light peeking over the mountains. It was about an hour before the sun would actually "rise" and he would have to make his retreat back inside. Right now, he was content to stay in the gardens. He had yet to explore them completely and this permanent insomniac was determined to look at every flower here.
So far he had been successful. He had weaved his way through the gardens till he was near the back of them where he would probably turn around to head back to the castle. Uncaring about exposure at the moment, he lightly stepped down the middle of the walkway. The only sound he heard so far was the faint rustling of his jeans when he walked and the way his cotton black shirt against his skin. His Air Jordans didn't even seem to make a noise against the gravel.
It was a very quiet night.
This type of night gave Wesley time to reflect on his life. These types came once every couple of years and he dreaded them. Usually, he was finding things to amuse himself during the night so he didn't cause trouble, but tonight was one of those nights where mortals couldn't sleep, nightmares crept up and scarred you, the quiet seemed to crush you, and you felt this incredible feeling of being alone.
Sliding down to the ground, Wesley put his head in his hands. He felt years of hurt piling itself on top of him. He slid into a lying postion, throwing his hands behind his head and staring up at the stars. The only thought running through his mind at the moment was I shouldn't be here. He could feel himself getting that gut feeling that he didn't belong. He didn't need to be here. He shouldn't exist.
Normally, Wes was your happy go lucky fellow, but today he wasn't feeling that way. He had felt a little outcasted today. He had one of those moments of "this isn't right" and had even scared a girl by yelling at her and calling her Nona. Maybe it was the lack of blood he was getting. He'd had one of those moments where everything had flooded into the past and he was stuck in a memory. It had felt strange like it was real. It was the last time he'd ever saw his twin sister. They had gotten in a fight over him going to the Shrieking Shack with his friends that night. She was always being righteous like that. She'd threatened to tell their dad, and he had blown her off. "Wesley!" her Scottish accent filled his ears and made the nerves of his teeth wince. The sound of nails on the chalkboard. "Where do ya think you're goin'?"
"Whaddya want, Nona?" Wes grumbled, turning away from his friends and to his foot shorter twin sister Winona Borgin, who was glaring up at him.
"You aren't serious abou' goin' wif them tonigh' are ya?" she was a mixture of angry and worried. One, because of the vampires runnin' round the woods lately. But, he knew that was a rumor.
"Course I am!" He boomed, loud enough for Olivia Woodby,his brand new ex girlfriend, to hear. "Whaddya think I was gonna do, sit 'ere and mope around?"
"Wes! You can' go! Din't you 'ear what's goin on in the woods these days?"
"Nona. Stop your worryin'. I'm not gonna be attacked by no vampire. There aren't any vampires in the woods."
"And how would you know, you big idiot!? You're big 'ead is full of all the knowledge in the world now?"
His friends were watching now and he was hurting because of the break up. He wasn't going to let his sister talk him out of having some fun. She was a prude anyway.
"Oh, go read you a book, why don't you and leave me alone! I'm not a baby and I don't need you lookin' after me!"
"I'm tellin' dad!"
"Fine, run off to daddy, tattletale! That's why your gonna die alone! Your always goin' and runnin' off to daddy! No wonder you can't seem to find yerself a boyfriend!"
He could see the hurt in her eyes. She already didn't feel pretty and was self-concious. Now he had embarassed her. She gave him a teary look before spitting at him "I 'ope they find you then, you jerk!"
He rolled his eyes and turned to go out of the castle with his friends.
That same scene kept playing over in his head. If he had listened to his sister and had not blown up at her and played on her insecurities like that he would've finished out his life like a normal person and wouldn't be a walking shell that shouldn't exist.
Sorry, Nona. I wish I'd listen to you.
From around the corner where there was silence was now filled with music carried across the air and seemed to float over him. He closed his eyes to the melancholy tune, letting it soothe his thoughts and fill his mind.
"That's a sad song you're strummin', little canary," He muttered, but his deep bass voice carried over the music. He knew it had to be a girl playing that. He couldn't tell you why he knew. Probably the sweet fragrance on the air.
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Post by Giselle Blanc on Jan 22, 2009 19:51:09 GMT -5
«---G i s s e l l e---»Something's getting in the way Something's just about to b r e a k[/font][/color] Giselle was abruptly cut off in the middle of her song. She hadn't necessarily been startled, but she had been surprised. Not once had she been in these gardens at such an early -- or late -- time of day, had she ever come across another person. Yes, she ran into animals almost all the time, but she knew none of them could talk to her... And if they could, Giselle was sure their voice certainly wouldn't be a deep bass that carried across the air. It had been heard over her music, after all, so Giselle knew it had to be another wizard... She was sure he was a boy. It'd be one masculine woman to have such a deep voice.
Giselle stood up, her movements as quiet and graceful as they ever had been. One good thing about being part veela was that she was naturally graceful. She rarely ever found herself in a clumsy situation, and she had always been light on her feet. She was able to sneak up on her lovely Isabelle sometimes, who would always playfully scorn her with bright blue eyes. The cat could never hate her, even if she did end up scaring Isabelle to wits end.
With her violin in one hand and the bow in the other, she quietly took a few steps in the direction of where she heard the voice coming from. She peaked around the nearest hedge, not taking notice to the form on the ground. She clearly had been expecting someone standing up, walking around, but so far she couldn't see anyone.
"Bonjour?" Giselle said tentatively, taking a few more steps. "Eez som-one out 'ere?"
She took a few more steps and continued to scan around... and then her foot hit something on the ground. She nearly tripped over, but caught her balance just in time to realize that there was a long figure laying on the ground, staring up at the sky. She, too, looked up at the stars he was gazing at, and took a minute to admire them herself before looking back down at him. He was in a position of relaxation, one that Giselle commonly put with 'lounging'... but something about him said he wasn't relaxed. She smiled softly while she looked down at him.
"Pardon moi, I dee-d not see you zere." She looked up at the stars again, tightly gripping her violin in one hand, itching to bring it back to her chin. But she was making conversation now, and that was no time to play. "Zey are beautiful, are zey not?"
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Post by Wes Borgin on Jan 23, 2009 1:19:40 GMT -5
He was a little saddened when the music that was describing his pain so well suddenly stopped. He wished he hadn't said anything so he could still the beautiful notes wrap themselves around his barely beating heart and tugging. He wanted to wallow in his own self-loathing for everything that had happened. More importantly, he wanted to apologize silently to all his siblings for not being there and beg forgiveness from his mother for breaking her heart. He didn't deserve to be living. He knew he was an abomination.
He heard her careful footsteps approach. He was definitely sur it was a girl because of the lightness of those steps. The way they barely made a sound against the ground. Almost as if she was barefoot. Then he heard her sweet voice and then he barely felt the pulse of her foot hitting his ribcage. Thick skin at night was a side-effect.
She apologized and he waved her off. "I'm the one blocking the path, sugar," he said, dismissing her apology. "Aucun besoin d'excuses."
He knew very little French. That "No need for an apology" was about the extent of it. He turned his eyes to the girl. She was very pretty indeed. His eyes found hers and a cheesy line came to his head, "They're nothing compared to your eyes, beautiful, or that song you were playing.
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Post by Giselle Blanc on Jan 23, 2009 17:01:20 GMT -5
«---G i s s e l l e---»Something's getting in the way Something's just about to b r e a k[/font][/color] Giselle grinned as he used a bit of French. She was always a bit thrilled when someone else knew her native tongue, even if it was just a little bit of French. After all, when she moved in with her aunt Fluer after what Claude had put her through, Giselle barely knew a word of English. She knew a few phrases, yes, but that was it. Her mother, though she knew English, never spoke it, and her Claude didn't know a lick of it. Lucky for her, Giselle was a fast learner, and she was absolutely grateful for Fleur and Bill's help, let alone their children, nieces and nephews who all insisted on lending a hand. Giselle knew a lot of English by the time she was enrolled in Hogwarts.
"They're nothing compared to your eyes, beautiful, or that song you were playing."
Giselle blushed as he complemented her. She was used to complements, even if they were 'you're hot', and half of them rarely ever caught her off guard. However, this boy had managed to get her. Her girlish nature butted its head in and made her cheeks turn a rosy pink that had nothing to do with the chilly air around them. It hadn't even occurred to her that he could simply be acting on the small amount of veela blood present in her viens... However, something about him told her that he wasn't acting upon it. That fact alone made Giselle's mood lighten considerably.
"Eet waz notheeng." Giselle said quietly, still smiling as she looked down at her violin. She brought it up to her chin again, lightly running her fingers over the strings without letting the bow touch. "Eet eez seemply my way of escaping a crowded room."
And this, of course, was true. If Giselle ever felt too burdened or too claustrophobic, she would simply dash up to her room, retrieve her violin, and then begin to play it wherever she felt like going. It always sent a calmness running through her, and she seemed to relax visibly when the walnut wood touched her fingers.
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Post by Wes Borgin on Jan 24, 2009 16:04:57 GMT -5
The rush of blood to her face did not escape Wes's ever watchful eyes. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He liked seeing girls blush.Liked that he'd made them feel a little bit better. It always made him feel better. That sudden rush of happiness and pleasure in knowing that you made someone else feel a tad bit better, even if it was only for a moment.
"Eet waz notheeng."
"You play wonderfully," he mumbled. He'd been around long enough to know what a good player was. His mother had once said he had an ear for music.
He removed one hand from behind his head and patted the spot next to him. A silent offer to share each other's company so they didn't feel so alone in this crazy world where beautiful girls cry in a garden and guys born in the 40s could still roam the world today.
"Eet eez seemply my way of escaping a crowded room."
"I know what you mean," Wes could sympathize with a lot of people. He'd experienced a lot of hurt. He's been in that crowded room before. Though, he tries his best to go with it.
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Post by Giselle Blanc on Jan 24, 2009 17:32:28 GMT -5
«---G i s s e l l e---»Something's getting in the way Something's just about to b r e a k[/font][/color] Giselle greatly enjoyed the boy's praise. It wasn't often anymore that she would find someone who could appreciate what good music was. Many of the students at Hogwarts were deep into the music of the new age. Giselle, however, preferred the classical stuff. It was gorgeous. It had its own way of speaking, even if it did not use words. The music would flow through the air with grace and beauty, and it always explained Giselle's emotions easily. She had a hard time finding a song from a new aged artist that could describe the mood she was in, and that fact alone made a few students confused. They would always ask her, "How can you not compare with a song that has words? All that song is music. There's nothing to it." Giselle, on the other hand, new so much better. Music was much more powerful when it was just instruments; If you could convey a message without words, you really had something going for you. Giselle knew talent, and apparently this boy did as well.
He patted the ground beside him and Giselle hesitated. She always had issues with trusting other people, ever since Claude had marred her being. She wanted to trust others so much, but a part of her always hesitated. She always fought an internal battle. Her soul believed in no such thing as trusting, but her heart, though scarred and torn, would always urge her to try and put faith in others. After all, every boy she met wasn't always a Claude. And this boy... Kindness came off of him in waves. His smile was sincere, and his compliments didn't have a hidden meaning behind them. How could she deny him company when he seemed so... normal?
"I know what you mean."
With that one statement, Giselle's hesitation evaporated. She no longer needed to think about it; He knew what she meant. He had felt something like that, too, and that was enough for Giselle. Her naivety would win over in situations like this, when someone would sympathize with her and tell her they knew what she meant, even if they didn't really know. Giselle always ached for the company of another who could understand her, and she'd fallen into a trap once or twice before. But she didn't care now... He said he knew what she meant, and that was good enough for her.
"Eet eez always nice to know zat I am not zee only one," Giselle smiled, sitting down next to him. She laid her violin in between them, simply because she loved it too much to put it out of her sight. She laid down on her back, one arm behind her head, one touching the violin. "Being alone... Eet eez not nice." She murmured.
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Post by Wes Borgin on Jan 26, 2009 20:00:06 GMT -5
He felt strange watching her like he was, so he quickly averted his eyes so he didn't seem weird. He hated seeming weird. Though, he came across as that sometimes. It was probably the way his eyes were a very light grey at night. Shocking gray actually. Almost white.
He gave a quiet sigh as he looked on at the stars. He could tell you every constalation in the sky. But, eventually, he was turned back to the girl. She radiated pain and heartache. For some reason, he couldn't look away. He had to know and he figured that if he looked long enough he'd be able to tell what was the matter with her.
"Being alone... Eet eez not nice."
"No, it's not," he murmured back. He was still taking in the sweet sounds of her voice. The lovely tune it had, even if the French accent was heavy. He'd always liked the sweet trill of French accents. The blonde hair. The beautiful eyes. This girl was definitely a beauty, even if she had the look of a definite lack of sleep.
He heaved out another sigh, "So...what's your story, mornin' glory?"
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Post by Giselle Blanc on Jan 26, 2009 21:39:27 GMT -5
«---G i s s e l l e---»Something's getting in the way Something's just about to b r e a k[/font][/color] She smiled up at the sky as he agreed with her. A fellow soul who knew what loneliness was and how it felt. Surely he had felt his fair share of it, especially if he was so easy to be around? He didn't seem to jump on her company; He just let it flow and continue on like they had known each other before this. His company was nice. Giselle enjoyed finding a human companion to just sit and take in the soft silence with. Sure, Isabelle was a great cat, but she couldn't talk back when Giselle wanted to talk to someone. And Lucy or Molly? She couldn't bear to put that kind of heart ache on them. They were sweet girls, and she was absolutely glad to have been blessed with them in her life... But that didn't mean she was allowed to put a darkness on them. Not now, at least.
She had never admitted what Claude had done to her to anyone other than her mother, Claude himself, and Isabelle. No one else knew, and she had no idea if she'd ever be able to tell anyone.
"So...what's your story, mornin' glory?"
Giselle smiled at the little name rhyme, but the soft upturn of her lips quickly turned upside down. He had easily read the pain on her... How could she have been stupid enough to believe that no one would ever notice? Some people just had a knack for feelings, and he, apparently, had that knack. Not only that, but he appreciated fine arts such as music, so it should have been an obvious pointer that he could pick out the pain tone in the sound. Her fingers stroked the wood beside them and she pondered how best to explain herself. Could she tell him the truth?
"Cauchemars," Giselle murmured in French. She turned her head to the side to look at the guy, a sad smile lit on her lips. "Nightmares."
It was the truth, after all. However, she hadn't said what they were about, and she wasn't sure if she would. And if she did tell him the details of it, there was no way in hell she'd be able to admit that Claude... He was... That Claude was... her father. She pinched her eyes closed for a moment, not wanting to let anything show in them and also fighting back a bit of wetness. Why did she have to be like this right now?
"I get zem fre-quint-lee." She said quietly, her blue eyes still hidden behind the lids. "Sleep eez not always so common for moi." Though her eyes stayed closed, her lips curled up once more. How sad it was that she could still find her pathetic little world slightly funny.
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Post by Wes Borgin on Jan 29, 2009 22:33:40 GMT -5
"Nightmares."
The concept of sleep was so foreign to Wes now. So far away. Sometimes he felt tired. A feeling would creep into his mind that he needed a long nap and he would lie somewhere for hours trying to induce sleep, but it never came. It never would come.
He sighed, turning to look at her again, examining her face with his near white eyes. He took in the details of her soft, angelic features. The blue of her eyes. Her golden hair. Her pale skin.
His vision was increased ten times in the dark. He would be able to see a bullet flying in the middle of pitch black to human eyes. But, he didn't need his vision when she was illuminated so well in the moonlight. It was a spotlight as every woman deserved.
"Sleep eez not always so common for moi."
He caught himself staring too long and looked up at the stars again. That was somewhat ironic and it made a smile come over his lips but fade away quickly. She would probably be angry or hurt if she thought he was laughing at her.
"Me either," he replied. He liked telling the truth. He felt like he was admitting something. It wouldn't be evident on his face that he was insomniatic. His whole body looked well rested and ready for anything. But, it was probably the sound of his voice and the look of sincerity in his eyes as he looked back at her that would hopefully convince her he wasn't just saying that.
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Post by Giselle Blanc on Jan 30, 2009 20:31:03 GMT -5
«---G i s s e l l e---»Something's getting in the way Something's just about to b r e a k[/font][/color] Giselle turned on her side to get a closer look at Wes. She had caught him staring at her, but she didn't mind. Giselle was used to the stares she got. Her blood attracted quite a few eyes, and she had long ago learned that she should just ignore it. There was a time where it had bothered her greatly, where she, more than anything, wished to be 'normal'. She still wished that there wasn't a trace of veela blood in her, but that was something she could not be rid of. She would leave it alone and allow it to dwell within her, an occasional angry outburst for it every now and again. But most of the time, she tried to ignore it. Right now was one of those times where she didn't ignore it, yet she didn't mind it either. There was something about him that said he wasn't staring at her because of the blood. As if, for once in her life, she had finally met someone who was not affected by the blood at all.
"Me either."
She smiled softly, looking down at her violin once again. She couldn't resist running her fingers over it. It was a habit of hers. Whenever the brilliant shining wooden instrument was in her presence, she wouldn't leave it untouched. It would either be touching her or in the case, stowed away in the Ravenclaw dorms.
"I am, sadly, glad to 'ear zat," Giselle said softly. It was selfish of her, but she was still glad, nonetheless. She liked knowing that she wasn't the only person who had some issues in this school. She often felt far too lonely for her own good, but now, after a night of terrible sleep, she felt just fine. It was as if the nightmare she had had was a distant memory, something that her mind had merely made up. Of course, she knew it'd come back to her eventually.
"Do you 'ave nightmares too?" Her blue eyes darted up from the violin. "I mean, eet eez all right if eet eez not nightmares. I do not expect us to 'ave everything in common." She gave him a dazzling smile, not really aware that she was even doing it. It was a smile she didn't use too often, but in some situations, it was called up.
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Post by Wes Borgin on Feb 1, 2009 12:13:40 GMT -5
"I am, sadly, glad to 'ear zat,"
He chuckled as quietly as he could make himself. It was nice that there was someone else that knew what being hurt felt like. Though he wished there wasn't. He didn't want people to be hurt. He wanted them to be happy. To feel better. He knew none of them deserved pain or hurt. They only got one life, they didn't need to spend it in pain.
He looked down at her hand stroking the violin. The gentle movements were a comfort to him. Kind of like a mother comforting her child. He listened to the strokes along the cords with closed eyes, sighing deeply and letting his troubles leave his mind little by little.
"Do you 'ave nightmares too?I mean, eet eez all right if eet eez not nightmares. I do not expect us to 'ave everything in common."
"No, I haven't had nightmares in a long time," he replied, keeping his eyes closed. "I'm a little home sick."
In truth he was. But, he knew he could never go back to his home. He didn't have a home to go back to. His home had been burned down long ago when everyone had died out but him and a new family moved in. All the memories he had had there were gone. His family was gone. He opened his eyes to look over at her dazzling smile. That was nice. Another comfort.
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Post by Giselle Blanc on Feb 2, 2009 16:55:02 GMT -5
«---G i s s e l l e---»Something's getting in the way Something's just about to b r e a k[/font][/color] "I'm a little home sick."
"Ah," Giselle said softly. "I am sorry to 'ear zat."
In truth, she was. She felt bad for anyone who missed something. She, at times, missed France dearly. But she had no home to go back to. She had a mother who would willingly and openly take her back in, but Giselle knew she'd never return to that home. Not as long as Claude still lived there. That place? Well, it wasn't a home anymore. It was the lair of an evil monster, and Giselle had no wishes to return to that place.
Sometimes, in her dreams, he'd have red eyes, not unlike those of the Dark Lord in his time. She had heard plenty of stories about his red eyes with slits for pupils, like a cat's or a snake's, and those eyes would fill her dream. Only, instead of being part of his evil face, they were a part of Claude's. Everything about him in those nightmares were evil. His face was gaunt, the bones sticking out at sinister angles; His face really wasn't that gaunt, but it was in her dreams. His thick hair was messy and rough, his skin unshaven. His hands were like claws and vices, and his body was always so much bigger than hers...
She wasn't aware that she had stopped stroking her violin, or that her eyes had closed, until she made herself take a deep breath. She couldn't let those images fill her mind, especially now. Now that she was awake.
Giselle opened her pale blue eyes, tilting her head to the side. Her hand was clutching part of the violin, and she frowned.
"Pardon moi," Giselle said, embarrassed. "And I am sorry about your 'ome... Again. Eet must be nice to 'ave some place to call home though, no?"
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Post by Wes Borgin on Feb 2, 2009 23:01:43 GMT -5
"And I am sorry about your 'ome... Again. Eet must be nice to 'ave some place to call home though, no?"
He let his eyes slide closed again. That stung. Even though he knew she hadn't meant it that way. There was no home to go back to. Nothing. Not even a shred of wood left. It was a fire done by magic. They made sure everything was gone. The grass had even grown back over the spot. Many a day he had set over on the spot where he knew the living room used to be and just exist there. It was like he had been a part of a scenery. A rock that couldn't be moved. Rain had pounded down on his back and snow flakes had coated him. Cold didn't really matter though. He was always cold.
"That I used to call home," he mumbled. Slowly, he slid his hand over towards hers. He needed to feel some warmth. Just a twinge. He needed to feel something other than his own misery with himself. He needed something else to focus on.
He rested his hand carefully where he knew hers was clutching the neck of the violin. He liked how soft her hands were and how warm. Granted, not as warm as Sofia, but wonderful just the same. Beautiful heat flowed over his cold hand and he could feel her pulse through his thumb that resting just on the side of her wrist. His big hand enveloped her smaller one.
"I'm Wes, by the way."
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Post by Giselle Blanc on Feb 3, 2009 17:38:04 GMT -5
«---G i s s e l l e---»Something's getting in the way Something's just about to b r e a k[/font][/color] "That I used to call home."
She would have said she was sorry, and showed the sincerity deep within her eyes. Hell, she was very sorry, indeed. But it was a common ground, a ground that, she too, knew all too well. And if it hadn't been for that common ground, she would have removed her hand when he placed his over hers. There was a silent agreement between the two; Anything goes now.
She shivered slightly in the cold air the second he touched her. Was she just imagining it, or was his skin nearly as cold as some of the ice covered plants and trees? Maybe he had been out for a while. Plus Giselle had been playing her violin, so her hands were most likely warmer for such an activity.
"I weell never 'ave a true 'ome again," Giselle said, a tad bit bitterly. "I cannot call zat place a 'ome anymore."
Sure, she had Shell Cottage. It was a beautiful place, but she couldn't bring herself to call it her home. It didn't feel like home. It felt like sanctuary. That was all it ever was; Her life line, her peace, her quiet. The Weasleys and the things around them brought her some sort of security, and so did her aunt Fleur. She could never explain it to them, except that she was damn grateful to have them in her life.
"I'm Wes, by the way."
"Giselle," She turned her head once again to look at the beautiful boy beside her, giving him a sweet, dazzling smile. She couldn't help that smile. It caught a lot of boys' attention, even if she didn't want it, and acted as if it had a magic of its own. Of course, she had no idea what Wes was and how easy it was for him to block out the affects of other magical ceartures.
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