She was fifteen, and had nothing in her life to build a bridge on. Oliver was definitely not someone she wished to speak to about her love life, she didn't want to talk to Grayson, and Florence could not stop about how she beat Timothy McQueen - that wretched Slytherin bastard - in a swimming race that went on or something. Really, if Florence was so lovestruck by the boy why can't she just date him?
She knew why, of course, and not in the mood to talk of it. Prefects and troublemakers just didn't mix well. She was talking about Charles, though, with his beautiful smirk and the mesmerizing eyes that she lusted for ever since she laid eyes on him. The Ravenclaw knew that his best friend was a Prefect in Durmstrang, and they were arguing about her. She didn't know why or how, but she didn't want to ask; she's heard more of who Lena Vorstenbach was and she sounded like Armaggeddon dressed in a woman's suit.
At this moment, the cave was her refuge. There was no one about and that made her feel secure, or at least it made her feel as if the world wasn't spiraling out of control. The brunette sat down, the rays of light from the outside world of no use to her. She needed some peace in her mind. In her soul. Everywhere. Just a moment to herself to dedicate to Charles. To Oliver. To Florence and Timothy.
Tshering wanted to go home to her parents, hug her mother's legs and tell her that she was okay, and they can be friends again. Yet her heart, she knew, would not be in it. Alice Tshering was only her mother legally, not mentally, not physically. Her fingers dug into the soil, the particles of dust poking through her skin, arousing slight pains across her fingertips.
She wanted to cry.
She knew why, of course, and not in the mood to talk of it. Prefects and troublemakers just didn't mix well. She was talking about Charles, though, with his beautiful smirk and the mesmerizing eyes that she lusted for ever since she laid eyes on him. The Ravenclaw knew that his best friend was a Prefect in Durmstrang, and they were arguing about her. She didn't know why or how, but she didn't want to ask; she's heard more of who Lena Vorstenbach was and she sounded like Armaggeddon dressed in a woman's suit.
At this moment, the cave was her refuge. There was no one about and that made her feel secure, or at least it made her feel as if the world wasn't spiraling out of control. The brunette sat down, the rays of light from the outside world of no use to her. She needed some peace in her mind. In her soul. Everywhere. Just a moment to herself to dedicate to Charles. To Oliver. To Florence and Timothy.
Tshering wanted to go home to her parents, hug her mother's legs and tell her that she was okay, and they can be friends again. Yet her heart, she knew, would not be in it. Alice Tshering was only her mother legally, not mentally, not physically. Her fingers dug into the soil, the particles of dust poking through her skin, arousing slight pains across her fingertips.
She wanted to cry.
Wed May 21, 2014 2:20 am by Guest
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