Post by Lance Ulrich on Jul 1, 2008 0:01:31 GMT -8
Saturday, September 18, 2010
It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the 2010-2011 school year, and all around him fifth and sixth year girls chattered at their own tables while the seventh year guys and girls spent time together at their own tables, segregated by house, seemingly. They all appeared to be having a good time, yet Lance was feeling rather bored while sitting at his little corner table with his mug of butterbeer. Where was Winslow when you needed her? She had at least provided him a source of entertainment the last time he had been in Hogsmeade before the school year had begun. Hogsmeade weekends were his least favorite parts of the school year, but going was better than staying and ending up stuck with first and second years.
After a few minutes, he had finished his butterbeer and stood from his table, wanting to take care of some business while he was here. That was the upside of the downfall of Diagon Alley: shops were now local during the school year. No more asking mum or dad to owl him some supplies he needed or asking a professor or another student to lend him something. He grabbed his messenger bag and put the strap over his shoulder, cutting his way through a group of playfully sparring friends, shaking his head after he was through. Honestly, where was respect or common courtesy now-a-days? Nowhere. Nonexistant. If they were sparring in the hallways of the school, he'd have a thing or two to say, but for now he chose to leave it be.
Of course, others might have a thing or two to say if they knew the "fantasies" in his mind, but he kept them hidden from them just for that reason. They would shun him, probably lock him up. It would be up to him where, so it wouldn't be so bad. Mungo's was quite possible but so was Azkaban. He wasn't sure which he'd prefer. He supposed Mungo's, but he doubted Winslow would let him be placed there on an insanity charge instead of in Azkaban. Even if she would, her "husband" sure as hell wouldn't. He wouldn't see that he was only trying to help him. He just wouldn't. Evie needed to die. It was the only way he could be free to rule. Rulers were best without attachments, without obsessions, without love. They were stronger that way.
Naturally, taking away his daughter was out of the question. The attachment to her would already be much too great. She was his own flesh and blood, but Evie wasn't, and that made her expendable. As was any other woman Trevor decided to use for more than just sex. He would learn eventually not to form emotional attachments. It would just take some tough love, some harsh training. He would be smarter than the average "serial killer," too. He would polyjuice so the prints were not his, and he would polyjuice as someone different each time but all somehow related to each other. It would take careful planning, but he could get out of this scott free. He knew he could. He had a brain, and he would use it.
With a sigh, Lance entered a potions store, flashing the worker a smile as he was greeted before beginning to browse the shelves. He knew what he wanted, but he wasn't going to ask for it right away. Maybe there was something else he'd forgotten about or would think he could use.
((Yes, it sucks, but most of the people I'm rp-ing with with Lance are inactive or on vacation..))