Post by Ashley Lupin on Jul 27, 2012 8:45:40 GMT -5
This wasn't her usual scene. Ashley lived her life by schedules and numbers. She started her 5 o'clock mornings with an hour run around London. Some people preferred the park or nicer landscape but Ashley enjoyed looking up at the tall buildings and the street lights that hadn't diminished yet and take in the simplistic beauty that was London. When she got back to her flat she showered, dressed for work, and spent the next six or seven hours at the bank opening vaults, counting money, organization, organization, organization. As her work day came to a close, she'd walk back to Follet Towers and change into something more comfortable, make dinner, owl her family to catch up, and then spend her evenings reading or going for walks to clear her head but she never went out, out. Among every member of her family, Ashley was probably the most tamed and that was starting to bother her.
She had a few close friends in school, all of whom have moved away by now or were starting families. Families, at her age! Ashley simply couldn't fathom it. The sad truth of it all was that actually, she could. Up until recently she had been in a three year relationship with someone she thought she'd end up settling with. They lived together, traveled together, had their morning runs together. Life was easy. Perhaps too easy. One morning she woke up and found Marc sitting in the kitchen, coffee in hand, telling her he had a job lined up in Greece or Germany or who knows what and that he didn't want to make a move without her. Ashley measured it like she did everything else in her life: rationally. So she told Marc they were still young and that he should take the job offer and that was that. She was stupid. She never felt more alone.
It wasn't that it was Marc. Ashley didn't know what love was and she didn't know if she even had it with Marc, but she knew that she filled her life with such precisions and calculations that she was running people she cared about, or potential to meet people she cared about high and dry. So today, the fashionista of the family is dressed to the nines as she always is, entering the Leaky Cauldron. She's not much of a pub goer but it's more of a mid-day joint: baby steps. Inside every one talks in quiet monotones or sharp tongues - there's a very stark contrast of customers. She opts for middle grown, taking a seat at the bar, ordering a butterbeer. She wasn't looking to get tipsy or anything. Just some company would do.