Deirdre Shantina
New Member
Ravenclaw Student
I wear a mask worthy of the fox...
Posts: 38
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Post by Deirdre Shantina on Jan 29, 2006 19:30:45 GMT
A young Ravenclaw walked slowly toward the Hospital Wing, biting her lip nervously. Her long, frizzy, black hair framed a woried face. She stopped and turned back the way she came. Then, she turn again and hurried forward, once again heading to the Hospital Wing.
She stopped outside, leaning against the wall outside. She looked around then muttered beneath her breath.
"Ajutor!" She sighed and slipped silently into the Hospital Wing. There she stopped dead in her tracks. "Where do I go now?"
translation: Ajutor - Help
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Shae
New Member
Ghost
Tell me, Death, where is your power to hold me in the grave?
Posts: 698
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Post by Shae on Jan 29, 2006 23:18:19 GMT
A light laugh - not at all malicious or making fun at, but just cheerful - echoed in the Wing quietly.
"This way Deirdre, my office is private to talk in," the ghost said as she stepped out of the wall beside a door that was silently opening beside her.
"I'm glad to see you, I was beginning to wonder if you would come," she added, motioning for the other Romanian girl to join her in the room that was covered with shelves, each one full of potions, books, or strange objects only the dead girl knew the entire purpose of.
"Please, everything feels better when it's been talked through and understood more completely," the phantomess added as a chair floated into the dead nurse's office for the other girl to sit upon.
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Deirdre Shantina
New Member
Ravenclaw Student
I wear a mask worthy of the fox...
Posts: 38
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Post by Deirdre Shantina on Jan 30, 2006 12:53:18 GMT
Deirdre smiled, seating herself in the chair. She looked around the room, looking at all the odds and ends.
"I don't know quite where to begin..."
She looked down at her hand, which clutched something small. It was so small, not a bit of it showed from her small hands.
"What I'm about to tell you is the story of a girl. A girl whose family was lost, and was replaced by a ghost, a monster, and a shell..."
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Shae
New Member
Ghost
Tell me, Death, where is your power to hold me in the grave?
Posts: 698
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Post by Shae on Jan 31, 2006 5:56:07 GMT
"How dramatic. You aren't writing this Deirdre, you're talking to me," the ghost reminded the girl pointing at the girl. The way she pointed was as if she had been about to poke the other girl, but stopped.
Wiping the slightly teasing smile from her face - it had appeared as she poked at the other girl - the phantomess rolled to lie on her stomach in front of the girl, floating in the air. When she had been alive, the spectre had spent a great deal of her time on her front (and occasionally her back) on her bed reading textbook after textbook, making notes now and then and trying out spells for the fun of it.
"Just start at the beginning, if I don't understand something I'll stop you. I'll try not to do it too much of course, I know you must find this hard," the dead girl added, smiling encouragingly.
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Deirdre Shantina
New Member
Ravenclaw Student
I wear a mask worthy of the fox...
Posts: 38
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Post by Deirdre Shantina on Feb 2, 2006 12:52:47 GMT
"Sorry, I guess I've read a few too many novels," Deirdre said with a sheepish smile. "Let's see...the beginning...I was born in the Carpathian mountains, the youngest of two. My older brother Erik was about three when I was born. My mother was human and my father a wizard. He refused to use any magic however, which I found odd..."
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Shae
New Member
Ghost
Tell me, Death, where is your power to hold me in the grave?
Posts: 698
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Post by Shae on Feb 4, 2006 6:07:41 GMT
The ghost shrugged at Deirdre's comment about how her father hardly ever used magic. It looked odd on someone who was lying down, but it was clearly a shrug.
"Some people don't feel the need to do everything by magic, and perhaps it unnerved your mother if she wasn't magical herself," she said, brushing the matter sort of aside. She met lots of people in her job, and some of them were really against using magic for every little thing.
"Please go on," she said. The dead girl would be quiet content to nibble the ends of some of her long purple hair and listen to her fellow Romanian tell her story. A new story was never a bad one in her opinion.
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