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Zack tapped his quill quickly and repeatedly, in a steady, hyper rhythm upon his doodled-on parchment as he stared up at the teacher, watching the man walk back and forth across the room, though not really seeing him. Zack had forgotten his name. He'd forgotten the class he was in, too, at the moment, to be honest. He jotted down a few more lines, darkening the spread of the wings of a falcon, sharpening the eyes, and the look of the talons and beak. The picture was amazing, in fact. No one knew that Zack had once actually professionally done portraits, for a little coin, back a few years. Long lost memories, those were. He hadn't lost his talent, though. A girl across the isle caught a glimpse of his picture and gasped, her eyes going wide as she gazed at it. Zack shifted his papers and arm, so no one could see it any longer, unless they were looking over his shoulder. He was self-conscious over the little thing...

The bell rang. Thankfully. Zack gathered up his bag, papers, and quills, and quickly evacuated the room, not stopping until he reached a tree, at a more shady part of the lake. He leaned against the base, pulled out his papers, and began drawing again, darkening the background of the bird, and finally finishing it up. He stared at it for a long moment, then unsatisfied, flicked it away, the what could have been a muggle still photograph of his drawing, landing on the grass a yard or so away. He ignored it, and began another, though he wasn't sure what he was drawing this time.

Curious, how after so long, he could just pick up his once most favorite thing to do, and be even better than before. He shook his head, and continued drawing, or painting, more like.

Zack was seated in the back of the Three Broomsticks, in one of the more dimly lit, unattractive, less noticeable and least popular of spots in the building. He wasn't concerned with the other people in the room. There were too many of them with too many different worries to notice he, sitting alone, deep in reverie, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey between his hands. Occasionally, he spun the bottle, but it, like everything else in the world, seemed to be forgotten.

He was lost in his own dark thoughts, and he was fine with that. Clad in black jeans, a dark green shirt, a thick black cloak, of which the hood completely hid his features, mud-stained boots, and various weapons the sharpest of eyes would not be able to find, he didn't look very approachable, but he didn't much care about it. He was fine with that, too.

A new thread to put up your favorite quotes :P


"
There's a hundred years of history, and a hundred 'fore that,
all gathered in the thinking goin' on beneath his hat.

The cold flame burns within him,
'till his skin's as cold as ice,
And the dues he paid to get here,
are worth every sacrifice.

All the miles spent sleepy drivin',
all the money down the drain,
all the if I's, and nearlys,
all the bandages and pain.

All the female tears left dryin',
all the fever and the fight...
Are just a small down payment,
on the ride he makes tonight.

It's guts and love and glory,
one mortal's chance at fame.
His legacy is Rodeo,
and Cowboy is his name.

"


-- I can't remember the movie..

Zack was back.

Zack had finally returned to Hogwarts, finally, his tall figure appearing next to the lake, close enough, so that the ice waters lapped at the toes of his thick outdoor boots. He was an impressive sight against the near unreal landscape of forestry and gaping skies, and the large castle in the distance, dressed in all black, his weapon-calloused, bandaged, and still bleeding hands clasped at the small of his back. His shoulders were squared and his posture strict, but there was an aura of fuming fury about him that brought the casualness and simplicity of his attitude to hell.

Zack was fed up, with the arguments, political, economical, humanitary problems that always seemed to end in battles. Ever since he had run away from his former place of living (not close at all to ever being called a home) he had been faced and weighed with the responsibilities that had been waiting for him. He was tired of it all, fight after fight, day by day. He admitted freely that he himself did not mind an occasional fight, but battles and growing wars, all over, were beginning to wear on him. He hadn't wanted that.

Zack had returned to Hogwarts, for a break. To be with the only people he had ever thought to be his friends. To actually go to school, and sleep in a bed without worrying if there would be a blade across his throat overnight. There would always be one under his pillow now, but that was just a security measure he had always considered. Zack wanted a bit more of the semblance of homeliness that Hogwarts had once given him, and some time away from his other life.
He had not left his command unfaithfully - he had made sure positions were filled to take his place for a bit. Though he knew that eventually his well-received and respected leadership would be called on soon enough, Zack was out, in want to be out of the light of death.

Much like the last time he had appeared, weathered and bleeding and sore and exhausted, he was covered in dirt, dried and drying blood of both his and others', and souring sweat and sea salt particles. But this time, he was completely heathen with the icy, cold anger in his grey eyes, much like that of his cool concentration with weapons as he used them to the benefit of those he fought for. Anger of which was receding some, now that he had returned, but was crisper than any, here, had ever seen of him.

Zack sat, and lay back, folded his arms behind his head and let his eyes close against the dawn sunlight, passing out into a dead sleep, his aura, even, fading to a dull throb of the pain that etched through his body.

Hello HPFF :P I moved, and finally got my comp back. Woa, a few changes, huh?

-dances- ,, ;D

Name: Zack Wolf

AGE: It depends on the timing of the RP, or story, or whatever.

Height: 5'11

Appearance: Rugged, alert, and dangerous. Sea grey eyes, brown-blackish hair that he sometimes spikes [which enhances his fox, wolfish-like looks]; he is usually in black or red.

Race: Wizard, for now.

Parents: Murdered. His father was a weary, skilled swordsman, haunted by the many battles he had participated in. His mother had been a gifted healer, kind, and generous. They were torn from him before he'd had much time to get to know them.

Personality: He is kind to those he meets. Kind, but also mocking, teasing, and laughing at whatever he feels he wants to laugh at. He is habitually trained in sincere politeness. To most. But when he is aggravated by something, his attitude changes in every unpredictable way.

Likes: An old taste for brandy, though he is rarely seen touching any alcohol now. The outdoors, books, jokes, cleverness, a good battle, or a simple fight

Dislikes: Drunks, idiots, selfishness

Power: He uses mainly, his wizard-based powers, and his inhuman fighting skills. He has other powers, but he rarely ever uses them.

History:  later.

It was indeed, an early morning. The sun had not yet even broken over the dim horizon. There were no bird calls, no thumps of padded feet or paws, no stirring breeze to rustle leaves and limbs and grass. Everything, it seemed to Zack, was dead still. Holding its breath for the sun to break its back once more for them and bring light back into their lives; to keep their lives in the bright of its beams. It was a warm morning, yet dew still laid on everything in sight, sparkling teasingly.
And as Zack continued to stare about him on this morning, he became more and more unaware of the sweat beading and trickling softly over him. He cared less and less of the deep gash across his broad back, and the bark blood emerging and running freely from it.
What a nice morning. What a quiet morning.
He became unaware, that his red eyes were closing, and of the loud ringing in his ears and swaying of his body. And at the crack second of when the sun finally broke its bonds and rose, he was lost, as the hard earth suddenly came up to meet him.

Does anyone out there enjoy the rodeo as much as I do? Smells of the musky bronks and bulls [and manure :P ] Heh heh heh it's great.
I've only missed one or two, perhaps, in my hometown, though it was probably my fault for injuring myself, but hey.
There must be some who can relate. ;D

Zack walked around the shoreline of this familiar lake of the school, his hands clasped behind his back, as his eyes watched the earth before his gaze. Mud crusted over his entire form; reasonable, as he had just crossed through feet-deep muddy country-side; beneath and over the mud, red flecks stained. He was aware of the first years, yards away, gathering their belongings and scurrying away in dead fright. They would not recognize his rugged self; even so, it amused him, just the slightest.
He stopped and turned to gaze at the pristine lake, pausing. Then, he removed his worn black cloak, letting it fall to the ground. Upon his cloak, he dropped his many sheathed blades: removed from his arms, back, legs, and sides. The last, his favored long sword, he lowered to the top gently.
He removed his [what once was white] blood red shirt, revealing a well muscled abdomen, and dropped it to the ground next to the pile of weapons, squatting down next to the waters. He dipped his hands into the lake and threw up water into his face, washing off the dried dirt and blood, wiping the tricking waters off on the back of his fore-arm. He sighed, brushed his dark hair out of his eyes, and stared down into the lake, resting his elbows upon his knees.
He had been away too long.

*sits at the edge of the forest against the base of a tree, staring out over the completely deserted grounds as the sun just begins to rise in the distance, quietly thinking*

man, I am so bored I`m actually tired! :o

             
         ~*THE YEAR BEFORE HOGWARTS*~


*wakes up before dawn on the floor of a stall**stands and walks over to the other side of the barn and opens the gate, smiling as sees a tall black theroughbred the same shape and size of his patronus standing inches in front of him**rubs the horses nose then slips a halter over its face and a blanket and saddle over its back, a task which no other jockeys would attempt as the stallion is thought to be crazed, but seems to have a way with the animal**jumps into the saddle and leads him out of the barn to the dirt path out doors**stops for a minute and streaches, waking up, and looks around through the fields**notices that can see his breath and smiles tiredly, then starts down the road at a trot, warming up**after a half an hour, is riding at full speed, the area around him a blurr, mind on the race only two days away**moves his arms and legs in rythm to the horses movements as it jumps over a fallen tree log, its speed equally amazing*

*wakes up on the windowsill in dorms where normally sleeps, and stands, streaching**changes and makes way down to the common room, waving his wand along the way sending the gifts he bought earlier in the motnth for his friends to the ends of their beds**smiles and plops on the couch, watching the fire happily*

*steps into the Great hall for the first time, preparing to be sorted*

*is pacing the room, stressed. runs a hand through his spiked short brown hair and holds his forehead for a moment, then starts to pace agian, an angry wave surrounding him**lets out a roar of frustration, and leaves the room**stuffs hands in pockets and walks down the stairs to the grounds wher turns to the water to let out his frustration**dives in and does a few laps under water, where it is easier to think in the silence, then gets back out and walks to the edge of the forest where, yet agian, starts to pace*

*wakes up on creek bank where had been resting, muscles sore from working non stop all summer*

*walks around the grounds in a red FOX motocross shirt and jeans, hands in pockets as 4:30a.m. comes and goes, thinking about how crazy everything went the night before**walks to the side of the lake, looking at the glass-like water*

*finishes up in potions then goes to Commom Room to drop off some books*

Ok, just remembered this, HP3 is going to be released on June 4, 2004. Hope it helps!

*walks out of the great hall with Elizabeth, his new gilrfriend, and they stand by the lake in eachothers arms**cups her chin in hands and kissses her passionately*