Post by elana on Jul 16, 2011 9:53:32 GMT -8
CHEWINGONTHORNSandreapingnobenefits...
September 9th, 2011
Hogwarts School.
Charms Office. 0200
Papers. He was grading endless piles of essays handwritten by each of his students. That was his entry exam. In order to succeed, one must prove his worth by the quality of his word. Most of them seemed quite intelligent, eloquent and had a good knowledge of themselves, the school and the curriculum of his class. Others had and average way of speaking, gave little information about themselves but would pass this test with a solid Satisfactory mark. There was one student in particular who caught his eye, however. Their paper was written so well that it gave little to no information about their origin, whereabouts or skill, except that it talked up his teaching skills even though they hadn't been in session for very long. It reminded him of the way he spoke, the way he eluded the questions of personality sifting, and also gave him an idea of what he was in store for this year's batch of young students.
Hm...he mused to himself, sitting back in his chair and marveling at the magnificence of this masterpiece. Though the child wrote no name on the top corner of this parchment, he was absolutely sure he knew who this was. Jaleth looked up at the clock after several moments of reading over the complexity of the simple parchment written in his hand. Bloody hell, 2 a.m.? He groaned, set the paper atop the mountain of other essays and put his head in his hands. He was glad that grading did take his mind off of Kara for this long, but he was still haunted by bewilderment. She was married now, a different woman than he knew before. She was tortured by her captors, the men that he now served, and was stolen away by her damned step-father, and reconditioned by her Order friends to become only half of who he knew before.
Between the fallen Kara, his assassinated sister Elana and his late wife Amana, Jaleth was haunted by the faces of three women who had a strong impact on his life. Pulling his hand up, scarred from moments that he wished to extinguish, he took the glass bottle in his hand and poured a healthy amount of scotch into the glass tumbler. He hadn't fancied himself an alcoholic until now, but Jaleth had to find a way to numb the pain. It was a pity he hadn't made too many friends here at the school. No matter how many new faces came through to teach at this god-forsaken internment camp for Williams' new soldiers, Jaleth had trouble keeping any company. Still, if someone were to walk through, simply to talk to him, it would be amazing.
September 9th, 2011
Hogwarts School.
Charms Office. 0200
Papers. He was grading endless piles of essays handwritten by each of his students. That was his entry exam. In order to succeed, one must prove his worth by the quality of his word. Most of them seemed quite intelligent, eloquent and had a good knowledge of themselves, the school and the curriculum of his class. Others had and average way of speaking, gave little information about themselves but would pass this test with a solid Satisfactory mark. There was one student in particular who caught his eye, however. Their paper was written so well that it gave little to no information about their origin, whereabouts or skill, except that it talked up his teaching skills even though they hadn't been in session for very long. It reminded him of the way he spoke, the way he eluded the questions of personality sifting, and also gave him an idea of what he was in store for this year's batch of young students.
Hm...he mused to himself, sitting back in his chair and marveling at the magnificence of this masterpiece. Though the child wrote no name on the top corner of this parchment, he was absolutely sure he knew who this was. Jaleth looked up at the clock after several moments of reading over the complexity of the simple parchment written in his hand. Bloody hell, 2 a.m.? He groaned, set the paper atop the mountain of other essays and put his head in his hands. He was glad that grading did take his mind off of Kara for this long, but he was still haunted by bewilderment. She was married now, a different woman than he knew before. She was tortured by her captors, the men that he now served, and was stolen away by her damned step-father, and reconditioned by her Order friends to become only half of who he knew before.
Between the fallen Kara, his assassinated sister Elana and his late wife Amana, Jaleth was haunted by the faces of three women who had a strong impact on his life. Pulling his hand up, scarred from moments that he wished to extinguish, he took the glass bottle in his hand and poured a healthy amount of scotch into the glass tumbler. He hadn't fancied himself an alcoholic until now, but Jaleth had to find a way to numb the pain. It was a pity he hadn't made too many friends here at the school. No matter how many new faces came through to teach at this god-forsaken internment camp for Williams' new soldiers, Jaleth had trouble keeping any company. Still, if someone were to walk through, simply to talk to him, it would be amazing.