| House Points | |||
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Gryffindor: 170 |
Slytherin: 48 |
Ravenclaw: 880 |
Hufflepuff: 1022 |
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Date: January 16th, 2013
Today's Forecast: The air is reminiscent of spring. The snow, turning slowly into a fine carpet of slush, is slowly disappearing after a decidedly warm spell. |
HIRP: Reborn is located here. |
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It is now: Year 7 - Day 4 - Supper/Quidditch Practice
Happening now: Supper Azkaban Trip is now out of time. Feel free to continue all plots as planned. Feel free to finish all plots out of time. |
| Next: Day 5: Valentine's Day |
| Read Today's Daily Prophet: Knights of Walpurgis attack Hogwarts; Belleford steps down as Hogwarts closes until further notice |
| Welcome to Hogwarts Interactive Role Play, one of the net's best in Harry Potter and Hogwarts role plays. We hope you enjoy your visit. Here at Hogwarts our students are currently in their Seventh Year. Last year, the war against the Knights crescendoed into a direct attack against the school. Disappearances are still reported (or not) daily, and the Dark Lord and his Knights of Walpurgis have succeeded in spreading their message of "do as thou will" far and wide across the globe. Magical Law Enforcement, which is now the only authority in the wizarding world under Martial Law, has responded by tightening security, controlling the media, and strictly enforcing curfews and other laws. Their control is damaging to the people's freedom, and their hierarchy is a suspicious lot. It is clear that some members of the MLE like their new found power a bit too much, others see it necessary, but all are in serious danger of being consumed by it. But with the picture of just what Azariah Amaranth is after becoming ever clearer, and a third player in the form of a group called SAVIOR entering the scene, what will the MLE do next to ensure that they've got the situation under control? The Elementium, the Higher Plane that had once been hidden just beyond the veil in the Department of Mysteries, and the Deathly Hallows. The pieces of the puzzle have been identified, but what picture do they make? Today is Day 1 of Year Seven. Students have had time to recover from the Knight's attack, and are beginning to reluctantly return to the walls of Hogwarts. The safety of the school has been diminished, bringing up the question everyone must ask. Are you safe anywhere these days? It's up to each individual to decide their fate, where will you decide to go? You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free. If you are interested in joining our forum as a role player, please take a look at the Joining HIRP Checklist (click me!) for an easy-to-follow guide on how to join! Click here to register! Await your email confirmation before you can post. If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
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| The Empty Classroom; Year 6; Day 3 - Christmas Day. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 9 2011, 04:25:32 PM (520 Views) | |
| Tinsley Carmicheal | May 9 2011, 04:25:32 PM Post #1 |
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It's cute that everyone thinks they can be a queen, but remember who came FIRST.
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Balls of light floated in the small glass jar sitting in the sixteen year old's delicate hands. Lifting the jar to her face, breath left a soft fog, and one pale finger scrawled initials in the glass. Through her narrowed, "so blue they're almost purple" eyes, Tinsley Erin Ophelia Carmicheal stared at what she'd written. A soft song escaped her pale pink lips, piercing the palpable silence surrounding her. It was as though solid walls engulfed her whole, suffocating each limb, each inch of skin, each beat of her small heart hidden beneath layers of glass. A sharp noise--a bump from the back of the classroom--startled the young girl, her shoulders visibly shaking as she dropped the jar in an unsteady grip. Pieces of glass littered the ground, fallen snowflakes glittering in the darkness. Rather than flicking her wand so simply, Tinsley stared at them, lifted her face, and stared through the darkness. She got up from the desk she had been perched on and stood, shaking slightly, on the spot. The darkness had a heart, and its heart was reaching into hers, delivering painful ice cold shocks of fear. Fear? Who was Tinsley, anyway? A girl who felt nothing, a girl numb to everything? But here was this fear, resting permanently on her troubled mind, concrete boulders obscuring all rational thought. Fear was what made Tinsley step away from the darkness, searching for a bit of light. Fear was what brought Tinsley to a closed window, where she stood, soaking in the moon's glow and and a delicate winter chill from the cracks in the glass. Tinsley's palms still shook. No one seemed to ask about her, or dared to notice that in the infallible mask of Tinsley Carmicheal had worn or tattered at the edges. No one seemed to notice that a thing had changed in the demeanor of the ever infuriating Slytherin: she was still cruel, harsh, quick to speak and slow to think. She was still vain, with her hair always perfectly falling in curls cascading down her frail back, supporting hips and legs that were (if possible) shrinking in size as Tinsley's age grew. Another thing to be vain about, another cruelty, another flaw swept under a rug. Tinsley sighed. They were all so stupid. |
I'm the BO$$.![]() Love Tins? Also see; Baby & Emma. | |
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| Ian de Pointe du Lac | May 9 2011, 06:29:09 PM Post #2 |
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Seventh Year
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Ian peered inside as Bannishtar opened the door. It as dark. The moonlight through the window revealed what appeared to be tiny little shards of light on the floor. Ian's eyes followed the trail of the moonbeam as it lit a path across a couple of dusty desks, over a piece of abandoned parchment, too fresh to have been left there, and up to the window itself, where there was revealed a slim figure, pale as the moon itself, her ivory skin contrasting beautifully with her dark hair. She stared out in to the light of the black night. Ian's heart jumped. He was glad it was Bannishtar's line, because he was speechless in that moment. "Hello?" asked the centaur, "who is there?" Ian knew. How could he not know? |
![]() Thanks Beth! I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin' I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin' I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin' I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin' Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. --Bob Dylan | |
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| Tinsley Carmicheal | May 9 2011, 07:03:50 PM Post #3 |
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It's cute that everyone thinks they can be a queen, but remember who came FIRST.
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An anxious heart slowed to rhythmic beats, a song inside of Tinsley's hollow chest, as a familiar voice met Tinsley's small ears. Her head jerked to the source, her narrowed eyes scanning the faces which she had sensed before. "It's Tinsley, Professor," she said, and when she did, her voice came out in an uncharacteristic waver, almost betraying the emotion which had settled within her. It was only then that Tinsley allowed her hungry eyes to fall upon anything other than the friendly face of the centuar Bannishtar. She finally found it within her to acknowledge Ian, a tentative smile upon her pale lips, illuminated by the moon's rays from the window. Tinsley quickly averted her eyes. A sense of familiarity settled inside of Tinsley, a strange phenomenon. An emotion, so foreign and alien: safety? Biting her lip gently, Tinsley glanced at the glittering shards of glass which were littered across the ground, and inhaled deeply. "I'm sorry. The Yule Ball seemed like a bit of a drag. More politics, less dancing." Tinsley tucked a curl gently behind one ear, and in the moonlight, a bracelet glittered, as sparkling and new as the day she received it. A gift. "Sorry," she repeated, her voice merely a whisper, a brittle breeze of winter outside shuffling the branches of dead trees. |
I'm the BO$$.![]() Love Tins? Also see; Baby & Emma. | |
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| Ian de Pointe du Lac | May 9 2011, 07:42:13 PM Post #4 |
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Seventh Year
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Ian smiled back, not at the pale pink lips which smiled, but at the eyes that didn't. His eyes didn't smile, either, and his lips wavered in their resolve. Their eyes saw the same light, or was Ian just being hopeful? Tinsley averted her gaze, but Ian did not. He was looking for clues in the lines of shadow the moonlight created on her face, arms, and legs. "I do not think you're the only one who feels that way," said the centaur, glancing at Ian. Ian wasn't really paying attention to what was said. "Is everything alright?" the centaur asked, looking at the broken shards of glass. |
![]() Thanks Beth! I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin' I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin' I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin' I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin' Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. --Bob Dylan | |
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| Tinsley Carmicheal | May 9 2011, 08:13:57 PM Post #5 |
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It's cute that everyone thinks they can be a queen, but remember who came FIRST.
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Something seemed to go off in Tinsley's mind--a small bomb which triggered a series of thoughts in Tinsley's mind: first of all, she was acting incredibly strange and out of character for the self-proclaimed Queen Bee. Secondly, she was having the strangest, hardest time restraining herself from catching eyes with Ian. A flame had ignited within her, one she could not seem to extinguish. This new Tinsley was suddenly a tumultuous explosion of emotions. The old Tinsley grabbed hold of her tongue, shoved sadness and thoughtfulness down into the dark depths inside which no one could reach. "I'm perfectly fine," said Tinsley simply, the same sly smile she always mastered so well reappearing on her face. "Aren't I always, Professor?" Her question hung heavy in the air as memories played before her mind like a sick movie reel: half dead, blood splattered, running through the crowd, hair a tangled mess of dirt and sweat, fresh tears, slick down cheeks, and one thing, one memory which stood amongst them all, front and center, a light illuminating darkness: Ian. "Ian would know," smirked Tinsley, shrugging her shoulders. "And what brings you guys here?" Tinsley skipped to a desk and hopped onto the front of it rebelliously. "Serious boy business? Oh, do tell." Her voice dripped sarcasm, though her eyes remained strangely devoid of any of the sick sparkle they once possessed. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light? |
I'm the BO$$.![]() Love Tins? Also see; Baby & Emma. | |
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| Ian de Pointe du Lac | May 9 2011, 08:48:24 PM Post #6 |
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Seventh Year
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For a moment, Ian thought he'd found his answer, but if the truth existed, Tinsely pushed it down into the darkness where the moonlight could not illuminate it. She smiled and told them she was fine. "Aren't I always, Professor?" Silence passed. A heavy silence, but nonetheless one that the casual, unlearned observer would not notice. "Ian would know." Ian knew. Ian looked to her eyes. Once again, the manner which was so obvious to Ian was what she wanted to portray never reached her eyes. Her eyes knew. Her eyes were in the light, revealed by the light of the moon. They were the faltering eyes of an actress who was aware that she was acting. And we're all actresses...and actors. Most just don't know it, but if you happen to be aware: The eyes give you away every time. |
![]() Thanks Beth! I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin' I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin' I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin' I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin' Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. --Bob Dylan | |
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| Bannishtar | May 9 2011, 08:58:36 PM Post #7 |
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Divination Professor and Deputy Headmaster,...as odd as that sounds.
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Bannishtar was not learned of the history between Ian and Tinsley, but he was hardly a casual observer of human interaction. The heavy pause did not slip past his notice. "Mr. Pointe du Lac and I were just having a discussion about Mr. Pointe du Lac's future," said Bannishtar, a master at emphasizing a word for without actually vocally emphasizing it. Only Ian would know what Banni meant. Bannishtar took another scan of the room. He found to suggest that Tinsley was hiding anything that was anything more than her own business. When his eyes once again met Tinsley's, however, the centaur remembered. "I will leave now," said Bannishtar, "But before I forget, Miss Carmicheal, I would like to see you in after class hours. I believe you need extra help with your Divination studies." Of course, Tinsley's Divination grades were some of the highest in the class, yet Banni was certain she could use some extra instruction all the same. "Good night, Mr. Pointe du Lac, Miss Carmicheal," said the centaur, turning to leave, "Enjoy the rest of your evening." Banni smiled, then left the room, and closed the door. |
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| Ian de Pointe du Lac | May 9 2011, 09:07:22 PM Post #8 |
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Seventh Year
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More silence. Ian didn't know what to say. "So," said Ian, uneasily "remedial Divination, huh? Glad I dropped that load of bullshit." Regardless of how much had passed between them, Ian was never really sure where he and Tinsley stood in relation to each other. It always seemed to change, every time they part for a while, and inevitably end up alone together in the dark. Or was it just his imagination? A trick of the light that made Tinsley seem impassive? Either way, Ian felt uneasy. He could not do what his inclination was to do, no matter how many times they've done it. |
![]() Thanks Beth! I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin' I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin' I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin' I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin' Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. --Bob Dylan | |
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| Tinsley Carmicheal | May 9 2011, 09:28:18 PM Post #9 |
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It's cute that everyone thinks they can be a queen, but remember who came FIRST.
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Silence. Maybe one day Tinsley would grow tired of the ringing silence, filling her ears with nothing but pressure. Maybe one day, Tinsley would find some sort of strength, garner the power she needed to clear her throat and finally say something truthful. It was seemingly easy to fabricate every story and walk as a ghost through life, leaving barely a footprint--just lie after lie, told together to form a single thread, threatening to unravel her. But no. The truth? No. How could Tinsley possibly say the truth when it was so ridiculous? Forbidden, even? How could Tinsley admit that the way the moonlight danced on Ian's skin made her own erupt into small, nervous mountains, or that the way he suddenly talked made her want to scream the truth until her lungs were bruised from the effort? But what happens after the truth is revealed is what is crucial, and Tinsley was not ready to deal with the consequences of revealing that... It had Ian's initials which she had scribbled onto the fog of her jar, and it had been Ian's initials which she had shattered into a thousand fragments. It was Ian's gifts which she wore, refusing to take off, and her entire existent was revolving around him: once, he remarked on her curls. She wore her hair curly for months afterwards. He may have casually said he enjoyed her perfume. She now owned bottles full. But better to keep your lips sewn shut than to dare speak the truth... right? It was then that Tinsley realized she'd been staring intently at Ian for a few moments. She cleared her throat and moved towards him, all the while making sure a considerable distance was kept between them. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "Sorry, what were you saying?" Tinsley's smirk relaxed into a smile (or at least what one would consider a smile on Tinsley). "Right. Divination. It's the one thing I've got going for me, Ian, you know that." Tinsley paused, and sighed heavily. "I don't have much going for me at all, actually. Besides shit grades in every course but Div, I..." A longer pause. "Never mind. I'm sure you have more important things to be worrying about, right? Got a life to live. Don't we all?" Tinsley snorted. "I mean, all of us except Kat Zakarin. And dozens of other people are just buying their time at this point. Oh, well." Tinsley arched an eyebrow, suddenly realizing that she was closer to Ian than she'd intended. She was positive he could feel her breathe next to him, in panicked gulps as though she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room. "But out of everyone, I hope you're the one doing well..." said Tinsley in a small voice. So at least one of us is. |
I'm the BO$$.![]() Love Tins? Also see; Baby & Emma. | |
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| Ian de Pointe du Lac | May 9 2011, 09:56:46 PM Post #10 |
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Seventh Year
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Ian and Tinsley were at that one awkward distance between 'just friends' and 'snogging buddies.' It was uncomfortable. Ian's stomach did backflips, and he'd have been able to sense Tinsley's gulping breaths if it weren't for the volume of his own booming in his chest and throat. Ian knew what he wanted to say, but the mention of Kat Zarkin diverted his mind from its intended course. The fact that his mind even had a course right now was very telling, though. "I was there when she died," said Ian, looking down to the floor--or, rather, intending to, but, instead, catching sight of Tinsley's legs in the moonlight. He averted his eyes to the left, because, hey, it's not good to stare, right? More like right after, he thought. He supposed the whole truth wouldn't throw her. She'd been in his subconscious, after all. She met Julia. Edited by Ian de Pointe du Lac, May 9 2011, 09:57:59 PM.
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![]() Thanks Beth! I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin' I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin' I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin' I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin' Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. --Bob Dylan | |
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| Tinsley Carmicheal | May 10 2011, 09:03:54 AM Post #11 |
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It's cute that everyone thinks they can be a queen, but remember who came FIRST.
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Tinsley stood completely still, and in a moment, her fierce eyes filled with a flash of curiosity and then, sympathy. The Slytherin's small fingers twitched slightly, as though asking for some kind of contact and comfort, but Tinsley stood resolutely, motionless. Even so, the emotion in her eyes faded away into nothing more than a brief passing, like a breeze or a wisp of smoke. In its place lay nothing but emptiness, the bottomless black of her pupils boring into Ian's. "Did you see her?" whispered Tinsley. Every movement of her eyes as they scanned Ian's face was precise, nearly calculating. Ian's own eyes averted contact with Tinsley's. A rush of bitter emotion captivated Tinsley. She reached out with a cold palm, and grazed the soft skin of Ian's face, forcefully pushing his eyes to meet with hers. "Do you remember it? Seems like the kind of thing you'd rather.... block out..." Tinsley let go of Ian and let her own eyes fall to the ground. "I wonder what it was like. Sometimes I wish I had been there. To see the light fall from her eyes, her fall from her bright yellow 'Puff pedestal... it's scary at the same time. I've only heard stories." Stories, whispered through the hushed voices of a Hospital Wing. Home for the troubled mind of Tinsley Carmicheal for the week proceeding and after the attacks (or whatever it was), Tinsley had her perfect alibi in place. Not that she'd ever admit to lying in the wing, a motionless log of mushed brain and racing thoughts. Tinsley had never before been so overwhelmed by thought. It was as though sixteen years of suppressed knowledge suddenly overwhelmed Tinsley's brain, wave after wave of revelation until her body hung limp, her emotions numbed, the Calming Draught's effects even poor reliefs to the echoing madness within. So only stories were whispered, through the cracks of the walls, traveling on the backs of squeaking mice, in the hurried footsteps of Madam Pomfrey--only then, hidden behind a curtain, did Tinsley stop focusing on her cycling mind to remember that there was an outside world to which she belonged. But, that was then. Now, the blue eyes which Ian knew so well sparked purple in the dim lighting, brightly cutting through the omnipresent darkness, sticky like a fog. Memories were pushed away to the back of Tinsley's mind, added to the collection of things piling atop one another. "Can't blame me, right?" Tinsley moved away from Ian, turning her back on him, her arms crossed numbly in front of her chest: her usual stance when she was upset, though no one seemed to figure it out. "Good and evil, friends and enemies... I just want to go home. What's the point of staying locked up here with these crazy..." Except they were the crazy ones. Precious Hindert would always be Tinsley's better half, and she wasn't exactly sane, and Tinsley herself looked back on her few years of life with a new set of eyes. She was no more crazy than the next person. In fact, an iron-hot memory burned through Tinsley's flesh as her scars pulsed beneath her clothes. It was as though a drill were piercing through her skull and into her brain: screaming unable to be silenced, an endless stream of thoughts, and vision clouded by bursts of white hope, blossoms of mania which faded away, revealing a desert, which Tinsley still wandered through. And then, the moment passed. Tinsley walked away from Ian, towards the window. In the reflection of the glass, Tinsley could see a portion of her face, blending with the darkness of the outside frigid Christmas evening--probably the next morning, come to think of it. Tinsley was the crazy one. They were all mad. "So did you miss me while I was away?" smiled Tinsley, a flash of her usual arrogance shining through her sadness. ___ OOC / I'm hoping that I can pass of Tinsley's "absence" by saying that Tinsley was in the HW for a prolonged amount of time. My plan (if it makes any sense) would be that Tinsley was in the HW dealing with some kind of prophetic coma .. if that makes sense. You know, her Seeing abilities are naturally given to her by her mother, but she has yet to perfect them, so she cannot yet control the different thoughts/predictions in her head, so she'll just feel as though she's going crazy, hearing things, whatever. Banni can help her to realize that her stint in the HW was more or less her inability to control her gift rather than her losing her marbles, and he can help her to sharpen her skillz. I'm hoping this makes sense... hahaaa |
I'm the BO$$.![]() Love Tins? Also see; Baby & Emma. | |
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| Ian de Pointe du Lac | May 10 2011, 01:49:15 PM Post #12 |
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Seventh Year
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"Do you remember it? Seems like the kind of thing you'd rather.... block out..." She held his face in her hand, staring at his eyes. She asked the question, but did not give Ian the chance to answer. It was as though Tinsley were trying to find the answer in Ian's eyes. Ian was sure that what Tinsley would have gleaned from his eyes was mere emotion, meek and powerful, ephemeral and everlasting all at once. What is, what once was, and what would always be would always be. As for Ian, he saw the eternity of finality in Tinsley's violet eyes. Only love creates what never before existed. Kat would live forever, Ian knew. Ian knew it because, in the moment that her retreating spirit touched his, he knew her so wholly and completely that he loved her. Ian had Tinsley to thank for teaching him that, right there, in the moment in which she held his face; though he couldn't possibly express it in words. Ian stared at her back as she crossed her arms. He desperately wanted to stand up and go over to her. All of this seemed to upset her, but as usual, he wondered what comfort he could possibly be. After all, his best traits usually involved upsetting people with unwanted information. What truth had ever been revealed that actually made anyone feel better? She moved further away, though, and looked out of the window. She spoke of going home. Ian could only think that "home" for him was hardly an escape. "So did you miss me while I was away?" smiled Tinsley. Ian caught a brief glimpse of her old self, then. Somehow, Tinsley's old arrogance, taken in small doses, excited him. He slipped off the desk in that measured, ponderous way Ian tended to move (quidditch, dueling, snogging and fooling around were the only activities in which Ian seemed to move with any sort of energy). He walked over to the window and stood behind Tinsley, willing his body to fight his initial discomfort at the mere thought of it. He always had to fight that feeling to reach true happiness. His life was funny that way. Or was life funny that way? He put his hands on her shoulders, his body almost making contact with her backside. "Of course," said Ian. He bent his head down a little, her perfume filling his nostrils, making him dizzy. How best to say "I missed you so terribly that my mind and body aches" without sounding like a tosser? He kissed the spot where her neck met her shoulder. His touch was light and soft. If there was one thing that always made him self-conscious about these sorts of interactions with women, it was that he felt that his motions lacked power. He felt like his gentle, deliberate hand made him less masculine. "I..." he said, being just a little more than a little nervous now, "went to the Hospital Wing a couple of times. You didn't respond, though. I was..scared." He paused again, but, this time, it was to kiss her neck and shoulder again. "I didn't know if I'd see you again." |
![]() Thanks Beth! I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin' I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin' I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin' I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin' Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. --Bob Dylan | |
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| Tinsley Carmicheal | May 11 2011, 09:48:50 PM Post #13 |
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It's cute that everyone thinks they can be a queen, but remember who came FIRST.
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Desire was palpable across every inch of Tinsley's skin: red hot want, stinging every thought which bounced off the walls of her skull. But does that equate to love? What about the fireworks currently exploding in Tinsley's stomach as her mind was mysteriously devoid of all thought, except for the lingering presence of Ian's lips as they graced her skin with tender touch? Panic threatened to set in, slicing through the gray Tinsley existed in, colors flooding her mind. But what did it mean? Never before had Tinsley longed to let go, completely scream the truth from her lungs and trust another heart so completely. Also, never before had she so desperately longed to run, find solace in the darkness of the previous unoccupied classroom. If only the darkness could completely consume her, eat her alive... in a world which Tinsley longed to live through emotionless and dead, Ian's kisses were reviving her, the energy from hips lips sending uneasy, panicked, wonderful, beautiful, frightening, mortifying, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful feelings running through her veins. "You wouldn't want to see me," said Tinsley suddenly, her body stiffening with the thought of suppressed memories. Her mind ached, soggy with thought. "I... I wasn't right." Tinsley turned around and buried her face into Ian's chest. "I don't even care what's going on between us," she mumbled, her voice muffled by Ian's chest. "I don't know what to call it. Or what this means. I don't know..." Tinsley's lips met Ian's in a sudden, heart-stopping moment. The silence after the brief meeting was palpable with unsaid words. Unsaid feelings. "I lo..." And then, of course, Tinsley sneezed. Edited by Tinsley Carmicheal, May 11 2011, 09:49:11 PM.
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I'm the BO$$.![]() Love Tins? Also see; Baby & Emma. | |
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| Ian de Pointe du Lac | May 12 2011, 12:24:11 AM Post #14 |
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Seventh Year
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To have her respond to his touch like that, to have her so close to opening up to him, the way she spoke...Ian wanted to tell her, tell her he didn't care either--or did he want to tell her he could define it and tell her what they ought to call it? Ian was surprised his heart didn't burst out of his chest and clobber her as she buried her face in it. Odd thing to think. Thankfully, the thought was soon obliterated: She kissed him for the first time since last term. They hadn't been this close since last year. Warmth welled up from somewhere close to his groin and stomach areas. His body pulsed with an energy he did not experience often. The feeling was foreign to him. And yet, Ian wondered if this feeling could ever become trivial enough to be called 'familiar.' It was worth being sneezed on. He didn't catch what she was about to say, though. Ian took one step back. He took his wand out and gave it a shake. A yellow polka-dotted handkerchief popped out from the tip. He handed the handkerchief to Tinsley. He smiled at her. "Here," he said. Her sneezes were kind of cute. Another odd thing to think. Hm. Edited by Ian de Pointe du Lac, May 12 2011, 12:29:07 AM.
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![]() Thanks Beth! I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin' I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin' I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin' I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin' Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. --Bob Dylan | |
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| Tinsley Carmicheal | May 12 2011, 11:39:27 AM Post #15 |
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It's cute that everyone thinks they can be a queen, but remember who came FIRST.
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Blushing a furious maroon, Tinsley snatched the yellow polka dotted mess from his hands and sniffled into the common, prolonging having to raise her red hot cheeks for Ian to notice. What got rid of a blush, anyway? Thinking of dead dogs... oh, that's great, they're all so flea-bitten and annoying anyway... or maybe... Tinsley sniffled for the six hundred and fiftieth time and finally resolved to blame it on a hot flash. Premature menopause. No wonder Tinsley was in the Hospital Wing for so long! She was plagued by the curse of womanhood, ravaging her body--in fact, she didn't even have much longer to live! Why else would Tinsley lose a brain cell or two and impulsively kiss Ian, probably the stupidest, most ridiculous, absolutely ABHORRENT-- Ian was still watching her. Tinsley gulped and her eyes widened, mouth open with something to say, but nothing but an, "Uh..." leaked out. "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." "Thanks for the handkerchief, de Pointe du Lac," grinned Tinsley, a grin that was completely forced to hide the barrage of panicked thoughts like bullets and the strange feeling going on below her belly button. Her stomach felt like it was full of acid or fire whiskey, something hot and anxious swishing around, and beyond that... Tinsley cleared her throat awkwardly. What the hell is wrong with us? Maybe they'd just deny their feelings until they were mid-90's, both still alone because, oh-so-romantically, no one could compare. Realistically, Tinsley saw herself, out of desperation, dragging Julian Kahn or Reg Black (hey, he's hot) down the aisle like a psychopath. |
I'm the BO$$.![]() Love Tins? Also see; Baby & Emma. | |
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| Ian de Pointe du Lac | May 12 2011, 01:36:04 PM Post #16 |
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Seventh Year
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As Tinsley sniffled, Ian flicked his wand a second time, summoning a pink heart-printed handkerchief for himself. Although he did not detect any snot on his face, he decided it was best to wipe himself down anyway. Ian watched Tinsley's eyes widen. She opened her mouth, looking as though she was going to say something important. Ian's breath bated, hoping she was going to say what she had been about to say. "Uh..." she said, increasing the desperate, uneasy feeling in Ian's gut and the anticipation buzzing in his brain, "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." "Thanks for the handkerchief, de Pointe du Lac," grinned Tinsley. Ian breathed at last, though it was a relieved breath. Awkward silence. Tinsley cleared her throat. Ian took to looking at the floor again. Ian had always had the habit of looking at objects instead of people. It must have made him look insane, or autistic or something. Maybe he was. There were plenty of functionally-mild autistic people out there. Or functionally insane. Oh, wouldn't he just love to have such an excuse for his behavior? It wasn't that objects were more interesting, of course. They were just...less complicated. After the long pause, Ian looked up. "You're welcome," he said, "--and...hey, look..." Ian moved closer to Tinsley. He looked at her with eyes as wide and sincere as someone with dark, heavy-lidded eyes can make them look. He put his hands on her shoulders again. Her skin seemed to radiate heat. "You saw some of most fucked up things about me," said Ian, "remember? I wasn't right either. I've never been 'right.' I mean, how you could be here, and be this close to me after seeing that--I just want you to know that I'm not afraid. Especially after that. I'd want to see you even if you were raving mad. There are things I'm afraid of--right now, I'm really, really scared. But I'm not afraid of the worst of you, because...you already got the worst of me. I...just want a chance to show you the best of me, too." Ian kissed her, this time. The flood of heat and emotion returned. After what seemed like an eternity, Ian moved his head back, just barely out of reach of Tinsley's lips. He could feel her breath on his face. He looked her right in her violet eyes--not an easy feat for Ian, who often avoided eye contact. "I love you," he said, "All of you." Edited by Ian de Pointe du Lac, May 12 2011, 01:40:28 PM.
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![]() Thanks Beth! I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin' I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin' I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin' I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin' Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. --Bob Dylan | |
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| Tinsley Carmicheal | May 12 2011, 01:56:31 PM Post #17 |
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It's cute that everyone thinks they can be a queen, but remember who came FIRST.
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Tinsley giggled softly, the worry and panic that had completely consumed her only moments before fading into nothing but a mere memory. Her mind, previously a sponge soaking up doubt and anxiety, was exploding in swirls of pink and blue, blooms of bright white mania decorating her world with color as her eyes closed and her frail frame leaned closer to rub her cheek against Ian's. The action was something a cat would do: curiously weird, and still, somehow, cute. "I still don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, Ian," snorted Tinsley. "But.. I love you anyway. Loser." Arching an eyebrow, Tinsley lightly punched Ian's arm. "Let's get out of this hell, it's freezing cold and you're doing a pretty sucky job of warming up." Which was a lie, of course. Tinsley felt like firewhiskey was flowing freely through her veins. Of course, it then occurred to her that... maybe Ian did know what he was getting into. How could someone see the darkness of your soul, find the desperation there, and still see a way through the black to love the small bit of good there? Was that love? Was that what Tinsley did with Ian? Honestly, the darkness which she had seen within Ian had never once affected her opinion of him. Maybe it even solidified the love which she felt for him, something which she could never bring herself to admit. Maybe that was love, or maybe it was just poetic bullshit that Tinsley had her hopes set on. And maybe it didn't matter what it was. |
I'm the BO$$.![]() Love Tins? Also see; Baby & Emma. | |
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| Ian de Pointe du Lac | May 12 2011, 02:19:22 PM Post #18 |
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Seventh Year
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Ian had his arms completely around Tinsley, he moved the fingers of his right up and down her back with pressure somewhere between a massage and a caress. Light suddenly exploded behind his eyeballs. Tinsley's cheek rubbed against his. Ian responded by moving his head a bit to the left, relishing the sensation, then down, so that the bridges of their noses pushed together and all that Ian could see was two rings of violet-blue surrounding an endless depth of black. "I still don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, Ian," snorted Tinsley. "But.. I love you anyway. Loser." Arching an eyebrow, Tinsley lightly punched Ian's arm. "Let's get out of this hell, it's freezing cold and you're doing a pretty sucky job of warming up." "I was just about to head somewhere when Banni and I heard you break something...klutz," said Ian, smirking, "I'm not sure if it's exactly your scene, though." Maybe Ian knew what he was getting into, maybe he didn't. Maybe it was just the testosterone flooding through his system during a successful interaction with a female that made him confident that he could handle it. Maybe all these feelings, this 'love' was just a chemical, but Ian still had a choice; and Ian chose to believe that this love was significant and powerful. |
![]() Thanks Beth! I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin' I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin' I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin' I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin' Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. --Bob Dylan | |
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| Tinsley Carmicheal | May 12 2011, 02:24:35 PM Post #19 |
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It's cute that everyone thinks they can be a queen, but remember who came FIRST.
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"My scene?" Curiosity was etched across Tinsley's face, and she gave no effort into trying to hide it. "What exactly is my scene, anyway? Julian and Precious and candles worshiping..." Saying anything about the Dark Lord made Tinsley intensely nervous, probably because she had seen him close up enough to know that, if he returned... Tinsley shuddered visibly, remembering Azariah's eyes which bore into hers so many years ago. Tinsley was just a young girl then. Well, she still was. "I'll go with you," offered Tinsley. "I'd hate to be alone now." |
I'm the BO$$.![]() Love Tins? Also see; Baby & Emma. | |
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| Ian de Pointe du Lac | May 12 2011, 03:06:25 PM Post #20 |
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Seventh Year
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"Alright then," said Ian, "Follow me--oh, and remember: When we get to the seventh floor: think 'I want to go where the Defense Club is meeting' over and over again. That sounds weird, but just do it--er, think it." Ian took Tinsley's hand. "You ready to go?" he asked, looking at her eyes, temporarily forgetting where they were going. |
![]() Thanks Beth! I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin' I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world I heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin' I heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin' I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin' Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall. --Bob Dylan | |
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