Post by dc on Sept 7, 2011 10:45:16 GMT -8
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
First month of 6th year
10:00 p.m, corridors
Lurking was one of DC's especially bad habits. He was still seething from his previous conversation with Keeper and asshole extraordinaire Greg Dale. Not only had the jerk ruined the life of DC's close friend (and secret crush), he then had the audacity to dump her and brag that she'd be crawling back to him. The innuendo laced, explitive filled boast had DC quivering with rage still, even though it had occured over dinner. Sofi hadn't been there. DC later learned that she had been crying, and not interested in eating.
DC quietly shifted his weight. Dale was in for a surprise as he walked back from his astronomy class. One of the portraits gave DC the pre-arranged signal that the target was about to round the corner and head down the stairs towards the common room, so DC levitated a suit of armor.
"Silencio." He dropped the metal missile on his foe, knocking him down the stairs in silence. Cross quickly lept after his target, shedding his wand and humanity as he began thrashing the older but less bloodthirsty boy. This was worth the explulsion he was going to get. Worth getting kicked off the team. Worth detention, worth Azkaban, worth even any shred of humanity left in him. Blood covered his hands and a feral expression decorated his face. Greg coughed or whimpered weakly. It was difficult to determine what kind of noise escape the mash of meat, bone and blood that was left of the once-handsome seventh year. Cross stood and laid a vicious kick into Greg's ribs, pleased with the spongey snap he felt. He pulled back again for an ending, crushing stomp, but was restrained by a magical force. A high pitched voice squeaked in a panicked voice.
"Sir, it's just as Plinky said: A student is trying to kill another. He's mad, sir, mad!"
First month of 6th year
10:00 p.m, corridors
Lurking was one of DC's especially bad habits. He was still seething from his previous conversation with Keeper and asshole extraordinaire Greg Dale. Not only had the jerk ruined the life of DC's close friend (and secret crush), he then had the audacity to dump her and brag that she'd be crawling back to him. The innuendo laced, explitive filled boast had DC quivering with rage still, even though it had occured over dinner. Sofi hadn't been there. DC later learned that she had been crying, and not interested in eating.
DC quietly shifted his weight. Dale was in for a surprise as he walked back from his astronomy class. One of the portraits gave DC the pre-arranged signal that the target was about to round the corner and head down the stairs towards the common room, so DC levitated a suit of armor.
"Silencio." He dropped the metal missile on his foe, knocking him down the stairs in silence. Cross quickly lept after his target, shedding his wand and humanity as he began thrashing the older but less bloodthirsty boy. This was worth the explulsion he was going to get. Worth getting kicked off the team. Worth detention, worth Azkaban, worth even any shred of humanity left in him. Blood covered his hands and a feral expression decorated his face. Greg coughed or whimpered weakly. It was difficult to determine what kind of noise escape the mash of meat, bone and blood that was left of the once-handsome seventh year. Cross stood and laid a vicious kick into Greg's ribs, pleased with the spongey snap he felt. He pulled back again for an ending, crushing stomp, but was restrained by a magical force. A high pitched voice squeaked in a panicked voice.
"Sir, it's just as Plinky said: A student is trying to kill another. He's mad, sir, mad!"