Post by magdaline on Jun 18, 2012 7:20:02 GMT -8
the world is on my side, i have no r e a s o n to run,
so will someone come and c a r r y me home tonightTonight, she was young.
And she was to set the world on fire, to make it burn brighter than the sun.
That was what she had wanted, an odd craving bubbling inside of her. Anger flowed through, annoyance and vendetta as well. It was all too strange, describing these feelings she was having inside her body. There was pity, self-indulged pity; there was vertigo, though her feet were planted firmly in place; there was sadness, her eyes bloodshot from the hot anger that boiled her tears. There was everything. She was standing in front of this wall, in front of this door forming from this wall. Her eyes watched it, glazed with tears. She wiped them away. It was time to remove the evidence, the evidence of ever showing such wild, wicked grief to any sort of human being who dares to cross her path. She groaned, moaned, curling her fingers into fists. She felt her nails peirce through the thick pads of her palms, the feel of something wet dripping, running down her tiny hands. She didn't want to look down at the wounds she created. Her eyes were focused on this door, forming, creating before her very eyes. She wept some more, though silently. The wand in her left hand, drenched in the red water formed from the wounds, shook as she did. A moan, a sad sound, begotten in the darkness that surrounded, the darkness that was penetrated only slightly by the flickering light at the tip of the white-pine wand. She felt alone right now, something she wanted.
Something this magical room knew she wanted.
No, desired.
She had spent the last four hours trying to get her mind off this, off all of this nonsense. But her mind seemed to refuse, and her body wanted to shut down, to sleep for the rest of the week, the month, the year. Her nose dripped, her eyes watered. She wiped them both. She sniffed soon after. Why was she standing in the middle of the corridor, waiting for nothing but loneliness? Stepping into the room would do nothing but give her the space she wants, the space she needs, the nothingness and the silence, to weep and cry by her lonesome. That was what she wanted.
Tonight, she was young.
And she would set the world on fire, make it burn brighter than the sun.
As she stepped into the room, her eyes still filtered through tears, she felt a peace wash over her like steam. Her eyes closed, her chin tilting towards the ceiling. Mirrored. All around her lay mirrors. She could release her Patronus, watch it finally take the desired shape she wished, watch it as it stomped about, frighten away whatever mice or insects were in here, and feel at peace even further. A smile spread lightly on her face. She stood in the center. She lifted her bloodied wand midway in the air, muttering those words, feeling the emotions she had when she would dream about the lost girl, the girl she recognized, the girl she remembered yet could never name. Her lost love, her lost something. The love no one had known about, that imaginary being she felt so intertwined with. She fought back the tears, her anger and her happiness strangely working side-by-side as the silvery wisp of smoke swirled in the air, just barely taking the shape of the hollowed elephant, who dance about the room for a moment, before it stopped, watching her with blank eyes. Its massive ears twitched, its skin shimmering in the thickness of the silvery smoke, before it disappeared, a quick cry escaping and vibrating off the walls. She plugged her ears, the loudness deafening. She squirmed in the center of this room, her eyes closed, the tears stuck upon her lashes. She was on her knees now, her body shaking.
It was all too real.
The emotions she was feeling, it was all too real.
She looked around her, backwards and front, spinning slowly on her heels before she met the eyes of a Gryffindor. Certainly she had seen him before, hadn't she? She recognized him from the table across the way, of course. She was a snake, however; he was a lion. How could he know she was here? How did he know? If he knew at all -- no, if he cared at all. His name was swimming about her thoughts now, the familiar face to the familiar name. Yes: Ryder O'Callaghan, the sixth-year Chaser of the Gryffindor team. Yes, she knew him; she had gone up against in the air, fighting for her team's victory just as bad as he. Magdaline Hadley, her tears trailing down her face, pictured him as a kind boy, despite his promiscuous ways. Perhaps he could assist her, to help rid her of these visions that she sees, certainly he could. She knew her hands were bleeding, but she didn't care.
Tonight, she is young.
And she is going set the world on fire, make it burn brighter than the sun.
And he could help her.
lyrics by fun. , template by beth. , tagged for ryder.
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