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Post by ADRIAN RAMON DERMANDOIS on Aug 21, 2011 3:25:32 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] nothing's gonna change my world the words: six-four-six the tags: madeline moldrem/della <3the notes :) The trophy room in Hogwarts was rarely visited by students, of that Adrian was sure. In fact, it was only occasionally that feet would cross the flagged stones down here. It was a room which, for the most part, was neglected though it's stands were kept up to date. But what reason did most have for being here? Certainly most saw the trophy room as just another room. It was a good place to get away from professors and annoyances, perhaps to break the rules, nut all in all it was just a room. To most students, the various awards in here meant nothing, the names on the plaques nothing but names but to some they meant something and it seemed he was one of those rare few.
Brown eyes flicked from shelf to shelf as he looked around, smiling and waving images of quidditch teams demanding the attention in many of the cabinets. Various cups and trophies lined the room as well. As much as anyone would love to just spend at entire day other than a mere trophy room, Adrian couldn't understand why they couldn't see the beauty of golden plaques, especially the awards for special services to the school. It was quite amusing to see what others did in the past before his generation that earned themselves that coveted award. Funny, most were. Like saving a first year from the Giant Squid in the Black Lake.
The Hufflepuff felt as if he had been inside the trophy room all day. All he did, really, was look at badges, the list of Head Boys and Head Girls, plaques and of course, trophies. At that moment, he was behind one of the hard glass cases. It had some plaques with the old Quidditch captains of each house. Quidditch. That was one word that could make Adrian smile like he just saw something quite entertaining. He didn't grow up playing Quidditch, nor did he even hear of it in his early years. In fact, he was only told about Quidditch when he boarded the train to the castle for the very first time.
After maybe around an extra ten, possibly twenty minutes there, he finally decided to go back to Hufflepuff basement. Though, it didn't seem too much of a good idea, really. At least, that was what he knew. His seer genetics were apparently uncontrollable these days. Most especially since he just learnt about it precisely eight months ago. It deemed itself as late, compared to most seers his age. At times he would simply walk away from someone just because his senses told him to, even if he needed to ask a very important question. Apparently, the reason why he couldn't go out was that he would 'meet someone' if he stepped out of the glass-filled room. And, that was complete with divination forecasts. Most would think that divination was just full of superstitions and was a complete waste of a Hogwarts class. Liking or loving that class came with being a seer as a package deal. Only some normal wizards would have a care for said subject.
He walked around the Trophy Room, poorly attempting to get a bit of fresh air through the enclosed space in the room. His conscience told him to stay in the room, and wait it out until he was sure that his seer senses were wrong, or that it was half-past nine. Whichever came first. But most other parts of the Hufflepuff contradicted to that suggestion, and just told him to leave. It was a strange feeling, almost worth a headache. That was proved to be incorrect. He held his head while leaning against the stoned wall, immediately focusing his attention on the Quidditch trophies. A smile lingered on his lips for quite some time, nearly making all his thoughts about whether he should or should not go out of the room disappear.
created by ade! pb-ified by will ( with a few edits by yours truly ) |
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Post by MADELINE GEVA MOLDREM on Aug 21, 2011 18:41:34 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u190/red52devils/BACKGROUNDS/black-7.jpg); width: 420px; padding-top: 10; padding-bottom: 10; border: #363636 solid 2px;] [div style="background-image:url(http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/tt7/Sara_Shadow/My%20RP%20Characters/400by250.jpg); height: 250; width: 400; font-size: 0; background: -moz-linear-gradient(bottom, #000000, rgba(255,255,255,0), rgba(0,0,0,0)), url(http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/tt7/Sara_Shadow/My%20RP%20Characters/400by250.jpg);[br"]-webkit-mask-image: -webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, from(rgba(0,0,1,1)), to(rgba(0,0,0,0)));]hi |
[/div] Something in the Way she Moves Della was sick and tired of being surrounded by all these annoying people all day. First she’d gone to her classes and by that time the adults around here were more annoying than the bully Slytherins. Not that Della had anything against Slytherins. She was practically one of them. Well, she would have been, if she hadn’t been a muggle born. In other words, the adult teachers were giving her a headache by the time classes were over, and after spending an hour or two in the Gryffindor common room, the amount of drama those girls talked about wasn’t helping her headache at all. So, taking a walk usually helped calm her mind down and then she could wipe out everything everyone had told her all day. What she truly needed right now was a snake. Snakes were very good listeners and she could just complain about everything and everyone and those little scaly creatures just sat very still, quiet, but still threatening, and just listen. The only snake she could talk to though was her pet one, which she kept back at her home so no one in Hogwarts could find out. Apparently it wasn’t a good thing to be able to speak to snakes like she could.
She sighed and headed down to the first floor. That’s where it was usually the quietest around this time of day. After she reached it, she thought about going out the lawns and taking a little break from the rest of the world, but she decided against it. It was calmer and quiet inside, she thought to herself, and headed down to the trophy room. It was always empty in there. Plus, being the seeker for Gryffindor always meant that if they won a trophy, it was mainly her doing. The rest of the players were practically insignificant when it came to deciding who won the game. That was all up to Della and her strength, swiftness and skills. Admiring her own trophies always made her feel better, so she decided to go admire them now. Since, obviously, this whole floor was practically deserted. Except, of course, for Filch and his annoying tattletale cat… but for all she knew Filch could be out roaming the grounds or cleaning up some mess one of the students had made, most likely on purpose.
As she reached the trophy room though, she froze in the doorway. The lights were on and dim as usual, though her eyes were usually already accustomed to the dark. She was very snakelike other than the fact she could speak to them. If it wasn’t for her muggle parents, she would be the perfect Slytherin. Except for the fact that (secretly) she hated watching other people suffer. And that seemed to be a very popular quality of most of those pureblooded Slytherins. She caught a sense of someone else in the room with her. Not only that, but after a few seconds she heard steady, slow, soft footsteps coming from the end of the room. She prayed it wasn’t a teacher of Gryffindor. The last thing she needed was more boy drama or a teacher snapping at her to get back to class, with the unoriginal threat of detention.
Fortunately, though, she caught a glimpse of the person who was there. He was unaware of her presence. Or, if he was, he was ignoring her. He wore golden robes, which caused her to relax. Hufflepuffs were no threat to her. Though he was a bit familiar… She guessed he was the same age as her and probably in a few of her classes. Della was never one to say the first words. She never dared to start a conversation, and she wasn’t about to break that reputation. Instead, she waited for the Hufflepuff boy to see her and then he could start a conversation with her if he pleased. Though, she hoped that he would see her, know who she was and how dark she was, and leave the room without a word.
ADRIAN!, 674!, outfit!, HIYA!, made by ANYA of CAUTION! [/center][/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by ADRIAN RAMON DERMANDOIS on Aug 28, 2011 4:34:33 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] nothing's gonna change my world the words: around five hundred the tags: madeline moldrem/della <3the notes sorry this is late, and full of rambling. Adrian couldn't see why the founders of Hogwarts had to build the trophy room with nearly no windows at all, or at least a small bit of ventilation in there. It wasn't like anybody would break in to the castle to steal those old and dusty plaques. Sure, they were quite priceless and made of gold, but rarely anybody cared about them. Except for those people who went inside the trophy room, like himself. All that he could see in the room were glass, glass, glass, and trophies of course. In fact, it was so tightly crowded in there that he couldn't see another person, if there were any, in there. But he did hear a sound coming from the trophy room, mainly that was the reason why he went in. He was always an intuitive mind, even since before. And by saying that, it definitely was not the fault of his seer genetics that he was always curious about this and about that.
Except he could see one thing that contrasted to the peace and order of the trophy room; at least a different color. Weren't those things in there gold-ish, yellow-ish, and whatnot? He shook his head. It was just another figment of his imagination. Like he normally thought that he saw a bludger attempting to fly out at him and bonk him on the head; even if it was just a teacher shoving his last homework scroll in his face. Though it was still there, the same view he saw awhile ago. Someone else was there. He moved out of the area that he was in to take a closer look. A girl, in fact. Judging by how she looked, Adrian could tell that she was a Gryffindor. The red and gold tie was unmistakable. How could he not have noticed? He had to notice everything, especially with Quidditch around. He had to know where the two bludgers were, that being quite difficult in rainy matches. And yet, he didn't even notice the girl.
As strange as it was, he didn't feel the need to say hello to the girl. Usually he had that feeling of saying hello; he responded to each person who passed him a note during class, and he also threw back a hex to anyone who would attempt to curse him in the halls. Maybe it was the fact that the girl looked quite, how should he say, creepy. Yes, creepy. Though, he did look odd just staring at her. Say hello; ask who she was; just do something, Adrian! he thought. Most likely, if his sister were watching, she would obviously say that. "I apologize for not noticing you awhile ago; I'm Adrian, you are?" he said slowly, trying to sound both polite and not in a rush to get that over with. She did look familiar, but his memory of her, if there ever was, was blurred.
created by ade! pb-ified by will ( with a few edits by yours truly ) |
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Post by MADELINE GEVA MOLDREM on Aug 28, 2011 17:35:05 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i168.photobucket.com/albums/u190/red52devils/BACKGROUNDS/black-7.jpg); width: 420px; padding-top: 10; padding-bottom: 10; border: #363636 solid 2px;] [div style="background-image:url(http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/tt7/Sara_Shadow/My%20RP%20Characters/400by250.jpg); height: 250; width: 400; font-size: 0; background: -moz-linear-gradient(bottom, #000000, rgba(255,255,255,0), rgba(0,0,0,0)), url(http://i592.photobucket.com/albums/tt7/Sara_Shadow/My%20RP%20Characters/400by250.jpg);[br"]-webkit-mask-image: -webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, from(rgba(0,0,1,1)), to(rgba(0,0,0,0)));]hi |
[/div] Something in the Way she Moves Della was always known for her brilliant memory. Of course, she had no control of the fact that she literally couldn’t forget anything. In fact, she’d tried many times to forget something, although she found that it was impossible to try to forget. It had been a pointless attempt to seem more normal, more average. But the extremely dark Gryffindor had never minded being different. She strived to do so, though she would like it if people would stop pestering her to tell them something during class that they’d forgotten. Although her photographic memory did of course come in handy for her tests. She tried not to take it for granted. So, that photographic memory of course didn’t let her down now. The boy was Adrian Ramon Dermandois, the sixth year, half blood, Hufflepuff Beater and Seer. She’d seen his full name and year and blood status before, and therefore for remembered it all automatically. And even though he’d seen her during Quidditch matches, she doubted if he could recall who she was. She was used to that.
He spoke slowly, almost as if he was forcing himself to talk that slow. She wondered then why he would feel the need to talk faster. Was he nervous? Well, he had a right to be. Della was a Slytherin stuck in Gryffindor because of her muggle parents. And, even though she’d never admit it, she was rather normal when she was a first year. It wasn’t until the beginning of her third year that her friends starting shunning her for seeming more like a Slytherin. That was when the fights between her parents had gotten so horribly she couldn’t take it and it rubbed off on her personality. Though she wasn’t about to blame her Slytherin attitude on her parents. Instead, she was just going to ignore it and focus back on the boy who had just introduced himself. He seemed nice enough, though she never judged people by their looks or first impressions. A lot of the time people hide their real intentions when they first someone to stay on their good side, then later lash out and betray them. She learned that from personal experience and wasn’t about to let it happen again, not matter how nice the shy sort of Hufflepuff boy seemed so far.
Examining him over closely for a moment or two, she met his gaze and then decided she’d have to come up with something to say. She pursed her lips slightly out of habit, and then tried to flip through her memories and see if there was any other information about him she could pull out. While her mind was browsing her older memories, the rest of her thoughts fell toward words to say. Though what she said didn’t take much thought, because all that came out of her thin little mouth was, “I’m Della.” [/b] If he wanted to continue the conversation, it was up to him to do so. [/div] [/center][/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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