[open] Crushed Hopes.

[damian]

[ open ]
[to anyone who can keep up with a long post]
----



An etiolated boy, with a thin, spindly appearance was standing in the middle of the hallways. His head was turned left, twisted away in a sharp angle from his body, chin jutting out, jaws set hard. His eyes, gray and cold, encircled in a dark black, were steadily gazing out of the only window in the whole hallway.

This boy's name was Damian Korpse. A fresh first year Slytherin since yesterday. He looked about sixteen years of age, and there was something about him, that shrunk away any friendly approach. Maybe it was the frigid way he walked, or the way he seemed to aspire happiness out of everything he set eyes on, or the way his cold, gray eyes swept over everything smoothly, and everything lapsed under his gaze. Maybe it was his thin smile, a sarcastic play of the lips, or the glacial air that set around him. Whatever it was, it wasn't very inviting, or warm. It pushed back away any kind of confrontation.

Damian, had been pacing Hogwarts' many corridors, familiarizing himself with his surroundings. He learnt that the school was rather vast. But this didn't seem to effect Damian. For Hogwarts was, roughly, half the size of his Father's mansion. The Korpse's Mansion was a large and very imposing house - if you dared to call it a house - it was more of a fathomable castle, sunk down between mountains, in a far, far away land. Everyday, when Damian looked out of his windows, he would see snowflakes swirling down, as they fell like feathers to the soft, white ground that surrounded his Father's mansion, and when he looked up, he would see towering mountains, giving him a sensation he was trapped between tall, huge soldiers made from boulders of ice, as blizzards of snow blew in and out of the day.
Maybe there was a reason why Damian always felt so cold.

The cold hard stone floors had been echoing under his footfalls, mimicking the sound of his heels as it bounced off the walls. His cold gray eyes, set steady ahead, with no hint of anything flickering in them, no emotion, no thoughts, no nothing, suddenly where hit by a heavy flow of light. Damian paused in his steps, and turned to look sideways at the source of light.

A window.

Below the window, lay the whole of Hogwarts grounds. Green, vast spreading grounds, with a sea of trees, an immense lake reflecting all the blues of today's heavens, and many, many children laughing, running, playing. Their voices rang up to Damian's ears, and with half interest he surveyed as two particular kids chased each other, presumably playing tag. Damian's lips, already thin as they where set, thinned down to a line, almost disappearing into nothingness. He wondered if they would still run around, chasing each others like fools, if someone, some one very much like him, blew truth in their face, took away their useless optimism that kept them going on day after day, and crushed their hopes. Would they still run around then, still laughing, still shouting, still playing?

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[chelsea]

Oddly enough, I do want to try. Nice post - loved the last paragraph.

You're making choice to live like this,
And all of the noise,
I am Silence.
We already know how it ends tonight,
You run in the dark through a firefight.

____________________________________

Her pale hand collided with the wall, as she used this method to relieve the anger in her. Anger, what an emotion. It made people do things, one wouldn't expect. Like seeing her slam her palm against the solid wall, and leaving a red mark, it still stinging. Wasn't something you would expect, from the way she looked. A demure face, an innocent one - that was what some termed it.

Perhaps it was because her eyes were so big, mis-matched by her small lips. Gave her a look, that was attributed to children who enjoyed day-dreaming. What a joke. Chelsea was anything but a dreamer. She was, simply put, a serious person.

Yet, at the moment, she was.. afraid. Oh yes, the girl could be afraid. A flaw of hers, beneath that icy cool exterior commonly attributed to her. She was a coward, indeed. And it was being well displayed at that point of time.

A corner. Another bloody corner. The girl let out a sigh, in a fit of trying to relieve the fustration welling up in her. This was irritating. Another corner. She had probably been here before too, seeing as this hallway looked familiar. But then again, which hallway didn't look familiar? Everything was so similar. It was as though someone was manipulating her to go down the same corridor, a few hundred times, on purpose.

She actually believed that this was probably what was happening. Some higher being than her, who took delight in her misery, controlling her movements and making her angry. A toy, was that what she was to them? A miserable toy? Well, to them, it was probably funny. To her however, it wasn't funny, not at all. How many times had she been going around the same place? How many? A simple answer came to her, upon herself thinking that thought. Too many, too many.

What she wouldn't admit, however, was what was the truth. The truth, that she was hiding from. No no, it would do her no good to admit that. Admit... The very fact, that Chelsea Raven Young, was lost. She wasn't lost, she couldn't be lost. No, she couldn't. But, as her eyes once again travelled the length of the corridor, and herself finding it oh so similar, she sighed. Was she really lost?

Her ears twitched. The girl blinked, as she stood up straight. Footsteps; people? How could that be. Everyone was outside, enjoying the fine weather, or so they thought it was. To the fourteen year old, it was anything but fine weather. It was horrible weather, in fact. The sun was shining, and the clouds were all fluffy.. Eugh. The happiness disgusted her, actually. Others, however, found it very good, to go out. She shook her head. Stop thinking about that, stop it. Over-analyzing, over-thinking. Focus on your own problem.

The footsteps came to a halt, and Chelsea found herself turning on the spot, hoping to see someone who could help her. Another person, a fellow student, hopefully. To talk to a teacher... she wasn't keen on the idea. Blue-green eyes landed on the silouhette of another, and as the brown-haired girl squinted, she could make out that it was a boy. A boy. A person. Possibly, someone who could help her. That was good.

And after taking in a deep breath, she spoke. 'Excuse me?'

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