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A slender figure approached the great doors of the, though haunted, homely doors of the school of Hogwarts. The lean slash of black beneath the pale, heavy, warm moonlight suddenly appeared, not ten figures from the stone steps, without pause, without sound, the compact, strong, but thin body moving without hesitation beneath the shading material concealing her. Moonlight enhanced the figure beneath the thick cloak, womanly curves and delicate lines scaled times over a dream. She moved gracefully, confident, each step as if it had been waiting an eternity be placed, each cloud of breath rising, as if long before, it had been known that it would occur. Each movement that brought the probably long forgotten, but always remembering, lonely being closer to home, each exhaled breath taking with it the past and reasons and memories and confusions.

Soft hands extended toward the grand doors, and gently pushed them open, the figure entering without sound, yet with more revelation than usual. The excitement was almost traceable through her very body. Finally, the hood dropped, those smooth hands coming to her collar, unclasping, and removing the cloak, sliding it off her thin, but strong shoulders, and twirling it slightly, hanging it on the coat-hanger near the door.

Pale, cool flesh was now revealed, pale as untouched snow, smooth as satin, flawless.. yet in a blink, she was changed, the angelic beauty still there, but in a more humanly sense. The once so very pale and prized flesh was now tanned, and bronze, occasioned with scratches from due travel. The beauty was raven haired, each strand long, silky, and lustrous, a drawing effect painted into each and every of the lower-back length, straight cord. Dazzling green eyes, of every hue and shade and emotion danced over the corridor, a moody, yet pleasant smile etched into the finely honed, stunning features of the so very changed, once very commonly seen student of Hogwarts.

Donned in softly faded black jeans, a deep green silk top, which was loose and mysterious, yet flauntingly hugging in occasion, she gave off a primly gentle aura. She had no shoes on - it was quite obvious that she had dipped her feet into the lake, as well - though the effect was at a zero - going shoeless was obviously a habit, of which she very much enjoyed, indeed.

Lavender was back.
Not as Lavender Potter. She, though she had loved her adopted parents very much, did not belong to the Potter's. She still thought of Harry as a brother, though. She thought of Harry as a very close brother. His silly antics, meditations, and grin.
She thought of Kiara as a sister, just as always. There had been unsolved conflict before both strong sources of power had broken away, but Lavender never forgot- she missed Kiara deeply. There would always be pain and sorrow, as there had always been, but that could never be enough to determine Kiara as anything less than a sister to Lavender. Once, they might have thought themselves distantly related. Though fate proved her hopes wrong, blood was not as important as the strength of friendships.
Ella. Sweet, beautiful, quiet Ellz. Lavender missed her dearly. Wondered where she went, along with Isis, Em..
Damion. Her lost love, half-Vampire companion. Her once so near, now curiously always absent dream. Of what could have been. Life had been hard. Where there could have been a proposal and marriage of life and character, there was a curious, though forgiving, and missing, hopeful and hopeless void.
Lavender remembered Ginny - loyal, determined, sharp-witted, quick, bold, caring, strong, troubled, and worn, but the image of strength and protection and fierceness itself. Lavender remembered one of her oldest, closest, most missed friends, the vow of never, ever forgetting like a jolt.

So many gone.

But there were so many new faces. New talents. Beautiful talents. Beautiful style and wondrous curiosities, fresh realities. Fresh hurts and sorrows and dramatics to an old background.

Lavender was so overjoyed that she was back. There was nothing like it.
It may have been just before dawn, but soon would arise the warmth and praise of the sun, as well as the many people of Hogwarts. Lavender remained where she was, aghast to all that had changed. She was sorry. She was so different. She was better than ever before, yet worse in so many ways. She hurt less in some places, and dreadfully in others.

~~At times life is wicked,
and I just don't know how to get through,
We spend our days in turmoil,
with nothing to gain, and everything to lose.~~

She quoted herself, with a rare, loose smile, clasping those soft, still palish hands behind her back.


{{Alas! I have decided to return and post here at HPFF! I missed this home too much! Muah! Xaver and Zack are usually bumming around my house, always switching off and on my comp with me when we have the time, so time will be pressed for RP time between the three of us {my poor comp, lolz}, but it has worked so far! lolz. The idiots are practically family, they are over so often, lolz. That, or like ticks. Yuppers. Ticks. :P  Anywho! I will move their lazy butts and get on here more often! I missed you all, old and new!
:-* -Lav}}

[Kataya Boarding of the Magically Elite!]

Heyas everybody, lolz!
I've finally got my newest board up-and running! Well.. there is a lot I still have to add, but eh, why not open it now, lolz.
It's based off the HP books, my imagination, and stuffs here in HPFF! ;) If you are a loyal RPer, write with reasonable spelling and grammar {{not using such drives me insane}}, then please, come along and join
Kataya Boarding of the Magically Elite!

http://xhsowawx.proboards76.com/index.cgi

Note that I'm still working on it, but put up a character bio, and you can start RPing immediately!

Huggles, lolz,
Lav

I enjoyed it! lolz. ^.-


Interviews - JK Rowling :  
 
J K Rowling at the Edinburgh Book Festival - Sunday 15 August 2004



Lindsey Fraser: Well, we must be the luckiest five hundred people in Edinburgh today. My name is Lindsey Fraser and I am delighted to congratulate you, on behalf of the Edinburgh International Book Festival, on getting up so early on this Sunday morning. Welcome to this very special event. Of course, J K Rowling does not need an introduction, so my job is really very easy today. Thanks to the Harry Potter books, her life has changed dramatically— I am sure that you know how the story goes. Thanks to the Harry Potter books, our lives have changed as well. We are part of an international readership and that is reflected in the fact that some of the people here today have travelled from far and wide. It is like a huge reading club that is immersed in the world that she has created. She does not often talk directly to her readers these days, and no wonder. She is too busy writing huge thick books to get out much, but she has made an exception today, first to read from her latest novel and then to take some of your questions. I know that you want to show how very pleased you are to see her today. Ladies and gentlemen, Jo Rowling.

J K Rowling: Morning. I am going to do a very short reading for you from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and then I will take some questions. Is there anyone here who has not finished reading the book? I know that there is someone at the back, because I know her and she told me. They seem to be mainly grown-ups: would that be right? If there are any younger people who have not finished reading the book, we need to be careful not to give away the big ending, if you know what I mean. If you have questions about the big ending, maybe you could save them for when you get your book signed afterwards. I try not to ruin people's appreciation of the book if they are still reading it, so I have chosen a reading from quite early on in the book, just before Harry goes back to Hogwarts. He and Ron get quite a surprise—for Harry, it is quite an unpleasant surprise, I have to say.

J K Rowling read an excerpt from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Questions from the audience

Out of all your books, which one is your favourite?

It varies. I would have to say that it is probably Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, although at the moment—it is unfair of me to say it—Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince is my favourite book. Sorry. I am the only one who has read it and I think it is rather good. I am normally like this when I write a book. Usually when I am just over halfway I normally love it, but by the time I finish it I completely despise it and think it is worthless rubbish. At the moment, I really like how the sixth book is going. A lot happens in the sixth book and a lot of questions are answered. I really have a sense that we are nearly there and it is time for answers, not more questions and clues, although obviously there are a few clues as I am not quite finished yet. I hope that that is sufficiently frustrating for you, knowing that you can't read it yet!


Which books did you read when you were a child and which books do you read now?

When I was a child, I would read absolutely anything. My favourite books for younger people would be I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, which I really love, The Little White Horse, all the classic children's books... I love E Nesbit—I think she is great and I identify with the way that she writes. Her children are very real children and she was quite a groundbreaker in her day. I also read a lot of adult books. The last novel that I read was Wilkie Collins' The Moonstone, which I have been meaning to read for years. It is a cracking read. I have just been on holiday and, for the first time in five years, I did not take any Iris Murdoch with me, because it is so depressing. I was just about to put one in my case and I thought, "Why do this? Why put yourself through this?", so I didn't bother. I read Wilkie Collins instead and it was a much better experience.



All the paintings we have seen at Hogwarts are of dead people. They seem to be living through their portraits. How is this so? If there was a painting of Harry's parents, would he be able to obtain advice from them?

That is a very good question. They are all of dead people; they are not as fully realised as ghosts, as you have probably noticed. The place where you see them really talk is in Dumbledore's office, primarily; the idea is that the previous headmasters and headmistresses leave behind a faint imprint of themselves. They leave their aura, almost, in the office and they can give some counsel to the present occupant, but it is not like being a ghost. They repeat catchphrases, almost. The portrait of Sirius' mother is not a very 3D personality; she is not very fully realised. She repeats catchphrases that she had when she was alive. If Harry had a portrait of his parents it would not help him a great deal. If he could meet them as ghosts, that would be a much more meaningful interaction, but as Nick explained at the end of Phoenix—I am straying into dangerous territory, but I think you probably know what he explained—there are some people who would not come back as ghosts because they are unafraid, or less afraid, of death.



Who is your favourite character in the books?

I have loads of favourite characters. I really like Harry, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid and Dumbledore. I love writing Snape—even though he is not always the nicest person, he is really fun to write. I love writing Dudley. If I could meet anyone, I might choose Lupin. I really like him. My favourite new character is Luna—I am very fond of her.



Is Aunt Petunia a Squib?

Good question. No, she is not, but—[Laughter]. No, she is not a Squib. She is a Muggle, but—[Laughter]. You will have to read the other books. You might have got the impression that there is a little bit more to Aunt Petunia than meets the eye, and you will find out what it is. She is not a squib, although that is a very good guess. Oh, I am giving a lot away here. I am being shockingly indiscreet.



How do you think of all the names, like Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs?

Those names all came out of the creatures that they turned into. I had a lot of fun with those. Wormtail was the most difficult one. My sister loathes rats and her problem with them is their tails, so that is what gave me the idea. You actually know how I get some names because I stole your Mum's maiden name, didn't I? You have to be careful if you get friendly with me because you tend to turn up in my books, and if you offend me, you often turn up as a nasty character. I found the name McClaggan the other day, which I think is a great name. There is a McClaggan in book six because I thought that it is a surname that is too good to waste.



In your stories, will Harry Potter ever grow up as a wizard?

Well, I don't think it is giving too much away to say that he will survive to book seven, mainly because I do not want to be strangled by you lot, but I am not going to say whether he grows any older than that because I have never said that. You are good at putting me on the spot!



Are any of your characters based on real people?

The only character who is deliberately based on a real person is Gilderoy Lockhart. [Laughter]. Maybe he is not the one that you would think of, but I have to say that the living model was worse. [Laughter]. He was a shocker! The lies that he told about adventures that he'd had, things he'd done and impressive acts that he had committed... He was a shocking man. I can say this quite freely because he will never in a million years dream that he is Gilderoy Lockhart. I am always frightened that he is going to turn up one day. He is just one of those people from your past whom you feel you have never quite shaken off. I will look up one day at a signing and he will say, "Hello, Jo". [Laughter]. Other people have contributed the odd characteristic, such as a nose, to a character, but the only character who I sat down and thought that I would base on someone is Gilderoy Lockhart. It made up for having to endure him for two solid years.



Have you written any other books apart from the Harry Potter books?

No. I have written other things that have not been published, which I assure you is no great loss to the world. I have written all sorts of different things but nothing else has been published. Some of it might be published one day—I don't know. There are some unfinished things that I would quite like to finish but I do not know that I would want them to be published.

Name:  Tavis

Sex: Male

Age:  It depends.

Height:  5'7, 5'8 usually- he is tall for his age, but not gangly. He is a fit, athletic child. In Hogwarts he grows to be about 6'2

Appearance: Long and lean, sharp features, pale, tough skinned. A long, narrow face, and an already muscled form, strands of his jet black hair usually dangle before his greyish, black tinted eyes in a way that relates to his mother - he constantly brushes it away, though it had a way of falling right back again. Already, his features promise to be quite handsome and well defined in manhood, more so, then they already were.

Race:  Wizard, a hint of Vampiric traits, a very small bit of human, a rather generous chunk of hereditary Fallen Angelic history, which settles on a grander scale with him than it had with Lavender,

Parents:  True biological, he doesn't care, for after an accident of his, Lavender's reviving him mixed their blood in such a way, he is her son much as if he had been born from her womb in all aspects. He cares dearly for his mother, and is protective of her. Relative traits of hers come out in his actions every so often, though he is truly his own being.
His mother, Lavender, is murdured in Tavis's 16th year {his sixth year at Hogwarts}, by a relative of her true line. Tavis had been tracing her bloodlines back through the ages, and it seemed, someone did not like that. He is bound and determined to find, and 'converse', with her killer.

Personality:  Warm, light-tempered, cool, graceful

Likes:  Friends, family, school, Quidditch, athletics, flying, triumph, relaxing, swimming, creatures, the outdoors, open places

Dislikes:  Arguments, rudeness, copper, bludgers, insensitivity

Power:  High mental capabilities, very high, almost higher then Lavender's, even.  His mixed races set powers into him of each and every. He has wings, and he can fly very well. Though he does this very little. His magical capabilities are extremely high. In all actuality, he is very smart and intuitive, and creative.
Also, he is the best Gryffindor keeper in Hogwarts history.



{{I couldn't help it, lolz. Gin and Ron made one, so I thought I might as well! LoLz.}}

[Diary of a Lost SoulWritten out of boredom. Time is of no moment.]

Diary of a Lost Soul
Written out of boredom. Time is of no moment.

Entry One
Why is it, that none understand,
Why it is, there is this blade in my hand?
You hurt me, you teased,
And now you will see,
What the price is,
For doing that to me.

Into my pillow,
Each night I wept,
Wishing for some place,
My troubles could be swept.

My place was never found,
I'm all alone in this world,
To never sleep is never sound,
Darkness, in my corner I will curl.


Entry Two
Diary, you will never guess,
What I saw today,
It may seem hopeless,
But what can I say?

Today I found a friend, Diary,
She's really nice, you'll see,
I think she might be caring,
She actually listens to me.

I think I've made a friend,
Diary, you know how lucky that is,
I hope our friendship will never end,
I wonder what Mommy will says.

Entry Three
I did what Mommy told me,
I told my friend to go to hell,
I don't have any friends now,
I'm not supposed to tell.

I got in trouble for what Mommy said,
The school teacher said, "That's not nice, you see,"
He didn't understand,
Mommy said friends will only make you bleed.

All the kids hate me Diary,
They call me dirty names,
All the kids hate me, Diary,
I am the monkey in all their games.

I wish somebody had told me, Diary,
That what Mommy said was not always right,
I wish I was not always so skinny and wiry,
Then maybe I could win some fights.

Entry Four
I skipped school today Diary,
I'm so tired of playing,
I only wish I had known what to do, Diary,
I should have known what I was doing.

The school nurse said I had Mommy's temper,
That hitting others was bad,
So why could Mommy do it then,
Hit me until I would bleed and whimper,
Why wasn't she spanked and made sad?

I stayed home while Mommy went to work,
Waiting tables at the local café,
I stayed home and looked over my hurts,
Wondering what trouble I would get into today.

Entry Five
I found this knife in the school kitchen,
I asked for it to cut my bread,
Nobody would listen,
So I got it myself instead.

I sat all alone,
At the broken table near the music stage,
I should have known,
That the table was my teasing cage.

Kids teased me a lot,
I didn't know what to do,
So I stood up with this knife,
Said, "You don't know how to feel, do you?"

I told them they'd be sorry,
Told them I'd make them feel bad,
I told them that I was sad,
We're all human, or are we?

My old friend said she didn't care,
Said I was only playing,
She said that I was too scared,
I could only play naming games.
She could care less, in her linens and lace,
While I struggled for bread, and was too sick for a race.

I showed her,
Yes I did,
I slashed my wrist right then and there,
They all gasped as I bled.

I lay here now, all alone,
The doctor said Mommy wouldn't come,
That's okay,
I know she has work to get done.

It's getting cold,
I wish there was someone to hold my hand,
I wish being scared wasn't so old,
I wanted to, just once more, be able to stand.

The doctor says it's no good,
This girl is going to die,
They did all they could,
But now, I have to say goodbye...




Each night into a down pillow, a lost soul weeps.
Each night into solitude, glittering eyes close to sleep.
We are beings of confusion,
Our morals and principals,
Faded and disillusioned.


We all cry,
We all fight and deceive,
Until we make a mockery out of every possibility,
And there is nothing left to believe.

[My new story. :PAn insight to Lavender's feelings and personality, during a really windy adventure. Enjoy, me hopeses! ;D :-* - Sarah]

My new story. :P
An insight to Lavender's feelings and personality, during a really windy adventure. Enjoy, me hopeses! ;D :-*

- Sarah

You know that feeling when the barrel of a .22 automatic hand gun is pressed up against the back of your head, and your stomach and hope all drop to the floor like dead weight, with the thought of 'Well, I'm screwed' passing through your mind?
Funny, it seems that such a position, especially when one is upon their knees, breathing ragged, and a bit loose in their sanity, that one can suddenly become fairly cooperative. Not funny, exactly, but funny. You know what I mean.

I can't tell you, exactly, how I was worn to my knees by the male brandishing the firearm behind me, but at that moment, no such certain care of thought came to me. My mind was more directed on the slowly slipping possibility of finding an escape route. I needed to get away from him as quickly as I could manage, for time was running out. Perhaps for my life.
A .22 is not the most deadly of guns, but even a small bullet from it {note the location} could certainly do a job well done to my brains. Woo hoo, gun guy. His pay should be doubled.

"Enough of this," the low toned male purred, bending down to speak in my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my pasty-white body, a cold sweat dancing across my flesh. I could feel it begin to pool already in my bra and at the small of my back.
I winced.
"No more running," he growled. "I've had a hell of a time trying to keep up."

"Famous last confessions, ay?" I shot over my shoulder.

"Famous and final."

Perhaps if I'd been in a saner mood, or had had some nice, cold chocolate M'n'M's, I would have thought twice about reacting to his bribe. The male had a steady hand with the gun, but not too steady. In my brain, that was all the convincing I needed.
I drove my foot backward and into his groin, at the same time, wrapping my arm around his gun-holding-wrist, locking him beneath my underarm, and dragging him to the ground with me, wrestling for the machine. He squirmed and hit at my body with his free hand, as I kicked back into him. He was probably twice my weight and near a foot taller than I, so my kicks probably were as painful as a beating with an empty plastic bottle to him, but when I need to I can cling, and I held to his arm. Finally I had managed the machine from his bulky hands, and it went skittering off across the dirt pathway, as he sank his grungy teeth into my shoulder. Eeew.
I released him and rolled away – toward the gun, that is. He scrambled, and in a sort of crawling, scurrying race, tried to beat me to it. I reached it first, but as I rolled away from him to stand, panting, I only dared to think of where exactly I might have been wounded if he'd gotten the weapon. No where good, surely. Duh.

Both hands on the handle, a firm finger on the trigger, my stance anything but gentle, I growled, peering down the barrel to the male resting on his knees before me. I rolled the shoulder of which had been clamped down on, never looking away from him, but wanting to abandon the continuous face off and scour and scrub the area of where he'd bitten me. Sick, that was. Gross, was the word for the hot liquid I could feel, blood and saliva seeping down to meet the coarse beads of my sweat. Ugg.

The male was of a dark shade of tan, a big, bulky, square build, body-builder and part-time cruncher style, with rough, dull, grungy features, twisted into a snarl. Whoa, was he massive. Weird, that I'd managed to get to where I was now. So lady luck has finally decided to help out... Phht. Yeah, right. That and Barney's been arrested and condemned for smoking dope on-set, then released for the pity-me-the-kids-are-insane plea bargain.

"What do you want?" I demanded quietly. "And why are you following me?"
"I want to finish my job, Miss Lavender. I am following you, to do such," he answered blankly, not meeting my eyes, but pretending to be. "My reasons are my own, but I will not stop, until either you, or I, meet the end."
Great. A hired thug. One of those noble people, usually blackmailed, out to get me and prepared to die for whatever cause they worked for. The worst kind of enemy.
"First," I growled, planting my leather-booted heal against his shoulder, careful to slam it against the blade wound I had set upon him earlier, and kicked him backward, to his backside, "buddy, I don't give a-"

Oh, nuts.

When I had finally realized that the thug and I were not alone, there was the end of the barrel of yet another gun pressed forcefully against the rising bruise at the back of my head. Wonderful. Like I said earlier, about my luck curse. To hell with Lady Luck, on that note.

"What don't you give, dear? Perhaps, we can persuade you otherwise?" came the gruff voice of a second male. The voice was a glacier colder than mine had managed to be, and I nearly shivered, forcing it off, holding the .22 steady and down toward the thug's heart at my feet.


When I think about it, the little-big scene right there might actually have been funny, in a 'Heeeeere's Johnny' kind of way. Male thug pointing gun at girl pointing gun at other male thug. Oh, well. My sense of humor has never been as funny to others as I think it is.

I was a mess, anyway. My black jeans and boots and tank were shredded and dirt and blood stained, worn and ruined. My raven hair, tied back into a thick ponytail... my poor hair. My flesh has always been pale, for a mortal, but as of recent, a pasty, ghostly look had seeped into my skin coloring. My boots had a little hole in the toe, where my toes had been narrowly missed by the swinging of a chain saw. I could feel the moist lakeside breeze cool my toes, and I remembered that back at my apartment, I had left the new pair of shoes I had bought... weeks ago. When was it I had showered last? When was it that I had slept last?
Whoops.
I wanted some flip flops and chocolate.


{{Edited Version!!}}

~~Lost one always is,
For true ending is hard to find.
What I would not give,
For a security that could be mine.

Confusion and wonder,
Taking one asunder,
Misleadings and misjudgments,
From a gentle hue to a torrent.

Becoming lost,
Becoming found,
But with the cost,
It hurts to be proud.

I hurt and I bleed,
What I want is never what I need,
When I breath it is my last,
Life is escaping far too fast.

My care is run thin,
Taken far too soon,
Dreaming is my only whim,
But to awakening always, I am doomed.~~

- Sang out Lavender's mental voice.

The voice, though gentle and quiet and seemingly sensitive, was bold and powerful and zealous, with a soft purr to the tones. Perhaps the purr, was the effect of the configuration of the feminine beauty of whom the voice belonged to; the little onyx colored, furry kitten seated upon her hindquarters, at the feet of a great sized, though wobbly, worn table. Head tilted to the side, the kitten's quaint little eyes squinted and peered at the passer-buyers from beneath the curtain of white sheet, many shades of striking greens and hints of coal.
She mewed softly, the tone reflective to the purity of the voice that had sung to herself, not by word of mouth, but by constricted thought. She kneaded her minute paws onto the stone ground near the feet of a few, and seemed to smile, her tail flopping about, her nose wrinkling at the grungy smell of the slippery floor.

The kitten turned her head in direction of a male, and a mew-ish hiss came about her little chest in soft regard; a rough spark in the haunted eyes. She scuttled back farther beneath the tablecloth, until the sheet lay layered at her furry ears, concealing the rest of her little body, her bottom against the foot of the table leg, her tail coiling nervously about it. The white speckled nose{the little area of which alone, beside her eyes, held color other than black} waggling in distaste.

Lavender grew tired of the itchy tablecloth and scampered out from it, prancing about the feet of many a travelers. It was not until her front baby paw was stepped upon, that she grew distasteful of that, and made her way back to the table, limping slightly, her tail limp and no longer perky.

Heyas guys! ^.^

http://blackxwolverine.proboards34.com/index.cgi


Come and join and RP with us!  :D :-*

http://blackxwolverine.proboards34.com/index.cgi?board=fictions&action=display&thread=1120040258&page=1

Here is the URL to my board, Lethal Shadows, of where I posted my Short Story, based from INDIFFERENCE.
Just a short read, written up between 12:oo A.M and 4:00A.M, this last night. {No, I've yet to fall asleep, lmao}

Too much copy/past/editing to repost here.
But there, is my original.

Quoting:
This is based on my posts in a recent RP I was involved with.
None of these posts are of real events, or from anything I've read about, heard, or lived, to ward off questions.
I posted it on my boards and thought, eh, I luv you all too. lolz.
O, and there is a bit of cursing.. hee hee
Written from these last four hours,
Huggles, and Enjoy {{I hope!}}.  :-*

:-* Wuvs, Lav.

Happy birthday, girly!

*sings*
Happy Birthday twoooo youzz..


-Lav.

Indifference.
We have all felt the feeling, one time or another. Disinterest. Alienation. Apathy. Boredom. Indifference ran through Lavenders veins like fire through dry seasons: unmerciful, and catastrophic.

Lavender sat in the Hog's Head, her back against the far wall from the entrance, in a foreboding, shadowed corner, her form at unease, though melted, enveloped in the black entity of shadow. She wore a simple posture, her legs crossed at the knee, one foot still on the floor, the other, moving slightly to an unknown beat. She made a formidable presence, her entire cloaked in a hooded black cloak, of which hung low enough to completely conceal her features in black shadow.
In a glance, she sent to the barkeep a sharp thought, and quite immediately, a drink was set upon her table. Alone, with drink at hand, and in a quite horrible mood [of which a few had already felt the wrath of], she was silent, her deep green eyes flickering, here and there, people-watching..

Lavender had been seated on the couch in the oh-so-very empty Hufflepuff Common Room since early evening, and there she still remained as the very first dapples of light began to rise over the high, glistening mountains in the distance, and alight the room. Her legs crossed beneath her, her elbows upon her knew, and her chin resting on the tip of the diamond shape her hands formed, she sat still as stone, her green eyes watching the blackened fire pit.
Time, certainly wasn't of the essence...

"Another morning. Another school day. Another boring waste of...t-time..."
Lavender's words were cut off, as she yawned, rubbing her black-ringed eyes with weakened fingers. She made way over to the Gryffindor table, and sat, barely, before her head was in her arms, and she was near dozing yet again. Yet she couldn't sleep, no matter how tired she got. She could close her eyes and be quite close to doing so, but sleep never came.
She sat up irritably, and snatched up an apple, eyeing it hungrily. As she stared, her exhausted brain fixed itself to different thoughts.
Why should she have to go without sleep, to always be aware for when this 'guy' was supposed to be coming? Why couldn't anyone else? Why was she responsible?
Irrational of these already solved things, she growled, squeezing the apple in her palm with her renewed fit. After a moment or so, she blinked, and again fixed her eyes to the fruit.
"Now I ruined this!" she hissed.
And as if the apple was itself the enforcer of her anger, she raised her arm, and threw it, completely forgetting herself, watching the thing hit the stone wall, and shatter, with the inhuman force built up within her.
She folded her arms across her chest, annoyed now at the silence of the empty hall around her, of which seemed to be mocking her with words only she could hear.
"Oh, Shush."

:)

Some Pics I got off the 'Net.



**PANT!!**

[Well, it's better than a closet, or classroom,]

The constant voices of the castle rang through her tired mind as a bell clang ran through the bell's interior. Whispers and laughs and yells and screams and so many different tones...
At the disruption of her sleep, Lavender opened her tired, wearied eyes, yawning. She was—on her back next to a fireplace? She slowly propped herself up on her elbows, looking around. The Ravenclaw Common Room.

Well, it's better than a closet, or classroom, she thought bitterly.

She easily loved the Ravenclaw Common Room, but it was her growing problem of her falling asleep one place, and awakening in another that was beginning to annoy her to her limits.

I must be sleep-walking, or something.

She lay back down on her back, stretching her arms over her head and her legs straight, breathing in deeply the familiar scent of the carpet, and muskiness of the fireplace, burning in small embers. It was at that moment, she realized in the bluntest of ways, that she was cold...so cold... She shivered, and looked up to the couch, for the cotton blanket that usually lay over the arm. It was gone.
She growled, though softly, for her head pounded with a renewed throbbing. She remained that way, lying on the Ravenclaw floor, for come long moments after she had awakened, an unwillingness was in her light body to move. Finally, when she gained herself, she opened her eyes. There was no one in the room to see the pain deeply animated in her features as she sat up with a gasp. She was alone, at least. She was alone.

This is ridiculous! she thought shortly.
She couldn't move any faster to save her life! In the back of her mind, she knew she should lay back down, and relax herself. Lavender, however, in a passion of anger and stubbornness, dug her hand into the couch side, clasping the material firmly in her fist as she lifted herself from the ground in one fluid motion, to stand. She moaned in agony, swaying dangerously. It was not a simple thing, her mind, and body, completely hurt.
She looked around with a hazed view, scanning weakly to see if anyone was there in the room with her. She couldn't stand looking so frail and pained in front of anyone. Especially her Damion. She just knew she would be scolded a big one if they, those who knew her well, figured her out: put together her pieces. They'd tell her to return to sleep, where her body and mind were screaming in protests in agreement, for her to do just that. And because she wouldn't, being caught in a dead sickness by her own bullheaded stupidity wouldn't be favorable.
   Lavender's thin, weakened body swayed, her oversized black shirt and her red M'n'M shorts sticking to her with a icy cold sweat. Her mouth and throat dry, she coughed, though that simple force was like tapping a tooth-pick tower. She stumbled backwards for a bit, her arms swinging to regain her usual grace and stability.
In a tangle of arms and legs, Lavender tumbled backwards into the antique lamp table, which knocked over with her form with a loud CRASH. The glass lamp and shade was crushed beneath her, shattering all over the floor in minute and edgy pieces, books were strewn over the floor, tumbled this way and that, pages folded and torn, and the wood table splintered slightly in the fall.
   Lavender laid motionless, her green eyes staring up at the ceiling tiredly, annoyance and pain written over her, but her other emotions blocked; blank. Her left leg was propped atop the wood table, splinters and minute glass shards prickling, stinging her soft white skin. A book rested under her calf, which saved it from a worse fate, of the sharp shards beneath it. Her right leg was flat on the ground, smarting painfully of the 'shrapnel glass' pinched here and there. Her arms lay above her head, bruised, merely. Her back had a few deep little cuts here and there, but she lay atop edgy books, that prevented her reaching the glass.
The worst after effect of the fall was the pain in her head. Had she really smacked it that hard? There had been a nice crack....maybe, yes, it had been her head.
Lavender groaned aloud, though she didn't move. She knew her small little feet couldn't hold her weight. Her left pinkie toe was numb, anyway. Why did crap like this always have to happen to her? Why, why, why? WHY!
   She wanted again strong arms around her to shake off this settling feeling in the back of her head. She wanted those black eyes to fall into and slip from this confusing, painful state.
"Damion?" she whispered, straining to focus of objects. They all looked the same! No...he wasn't there. That was the remaining lamp table...right? Wasn't it? Wasn't it the table? Or was it just another blob of her imagination??
She whimpered and closed her green eyes, turning her head to the side to lay against her soft arm.
No...now was to sleep. Yes, that sounded quite angelic. Sleep... Sleep, and everything will be okay...
   Lavender slowed her heavy, strained breathing to a soft, peaceful, relaxed state. But the lessened oxygen made her suddenly light-headed. Yes...sleep...
The thought caressed her mind, and she sighed breathlessly, her bloody, limp form, still and ghostly. She was so tired...

["STOP."]

Lavender growled, her awakening mind beating down upon her as someone with a metal rod would hit someone weaponless.
It was dawn, and students were already flooding back and forth around the grounds of the castle. Were they coming out? Or going in? Wherever the hell they were going, it didn't matter. Talking, laughing, yelling, screaming, giggling, fighting, spell-casting, hollering, sneering, and tromping without the slightest care. Other than for themselves, that is.
Lavender squirmed, as their voices became louder in her mind. And suddenly, she breathed deeply, a black, silk-like blanket of emptiness covering the top of her minds, reaching out from her very depths in magical sources, and shielding most of the sounds from her mind. But still, the voices came through. She was at a last attempt, to stop it. To stop this fierce noise awakening her from her slumber, before it killed her. She was not awake enough, and her mental shields collapsing around her in this such way and manner, was in a way that was fatal to her mortal life. This, she knew was her last defense, in this state, to wrap a blanket around herself. But it wasn't working.
Lavender snarled, at a last attempt to block out the voices around her. She, her bodily form, was asleep at the shoreline of her most favored lake, this body of water on the school grounds.
The night before, in a near desperate 'battle', she had fought off the drowning of herself, as a magical form removed from her, unwillingly, her magical forces, singly one by one, in a rage catching her at an unknowing time. She had, of course, caught on to this monster's 'scheme', and ridded of him, but the effort to gain her strength back was at the fingertips of her grasp.
In this unusual weakened state of hers, she had fallen ill. Probably from the bastard's powers now lurking in her. So, unknowing of her serious problem, she allowed her exhausted body to fall into slumber. But now she couldn't return quick enough!
Lavender felt suddenly cold, as she felt gentle touch with the world again. She tried to reach out, but it was like grasping smoke.
Those voices! She wanted them to stop! But no, the sounds would not stop. They kept getting louder, and louder, and louder...
Her eyes flashed open.
"STOP."
Did she scream it? The word tasted of more malice then ever reached her lips before. Sinister and hating, in that same moment, as she sprang, panther like, from her sitting position, to hover feet from the ground, her arms straight before her, her palms facing the students, whose eyes were on her form, sneers, laughter, jeers, and curiosity etched on their forms. Her back, straight and her shoulders squared fiercely, Lavender yelled out in a fired pain.
From her hands, red, blackish light streamed in a blunt force, illuminating everything to the naked eye's view in a bloody haze. The light remained for more than a few moments, casting everything into unseen, but as suddenly as it had come on, the light disintegrated.
The students, no, the entire bodies of the school lands, were frozen in their movements. Mouths half open, words and calls stopped in their throats. Eyes glittering in a frank stillness. Muscles, locked as stone. The school was frozen in her hold. None breathed, none moved. They were simply stuck, and covered in the ice they resembled.
Lavender was possessed. Her green eyes blazed in a fiery red; blood red rubies, frozen and cold as the stone people. Unreadable. Unreachable.
Her raven hair was painted with ice streaks, still about her shoulders. Her already pale, well toned body, was suddenly ghostly, and frail. Her arms dropped to her sides, as her eyes became unfocused. The power she had exerted, drained her of her complete source of energy. Of more energy than she possessed. And so the magics took from her memories, and feelings—her self. She was forced to a small, safe spot in the back of her mind, under lock and key. A place where the blackness that now enveloped her mind could not destroy her. But where she could not get out of alone.
She sunk to the ice layered ground, her small feet resting softly as she landed. Her eyes closed, and her body swayed unsteadily.
Where am I? Better yet, who am I?
To these questions, her unknowing mind could not answer, though a sense of foreboding and nausea enticed her strongly.
Perhaps I have been here before? No, that isn't possible...
Everything has suddenly become alive again. Moving. Have I done something to start this world moving again? No, that was impossible...
What Lavender didn't know, was that her loss of herself, shattered the sanity of the Land's wild livings. The creatures, and plant life paused, in a scared recognition of this. Lavender, the backbone of them knowing their safely-ness, was gone from them. They knew this. And for it, they were silent.

Well, what is it? :D [(lmao.)]

Mine is the Horse Whisperer.  I dunno. It always has been. :P



...:Lav:...

  This forum has definitely gone through a lot! As we all have, I suppose.

  Some have left, and never really returned. And we miss them and want them to come back, like the close friends they have become.

  Some have returned, after long times away. And it is always neat to welcome them back into the forum. Welcome back topics are always the coolest.

  Some have been here far more than we should be. *CoughCough*  :P Heh Heh.

  And some, have never really  found out what this site was about at all. But there are so many of those kind of people, we do not remember them much.

   Peoples' views have changed. And we as writers have grown as writers, and, also, as people. It is quite an odd feeling, thinking of all the differences in the lives of people, really all over the world.

And the RP's. Our characters, the children of our minds, mirrors to the point of views we might agree with most of all, and ones we may oppose so very strongly; to points we may or may not be so easy to discuss in the real world.. Mirrors to the forever-evolving forms of what we are.

And so, the reason of my posting my thoughts, other than that I usually do so often, anyway, is because I am very tired, and very bored. HI ALL!!  ;D ;D


   Anyone else have an opinion on the matter?

She'd started off in the Gryffindor common room, book in hand, still dressed in her night things: M'n'M's shorts, and an oversize black tee-shirt. But, there roamed too many people, and the loudness of the room was too high for her comfort in reading. So, then, she tried the Slytherin common room. But there her problem was just the same; added, of course, were more than a few dirty glances. So she then tried the Hufflepuff common room. But there, it was too quiet.
So, at last, she found her way into the Ravenclaw Common Room, where no one dwelled, but a warm fire cracked happily about upon her entrance.

"Perfect..." She whispered.

She made her way over to the couch nearest to the fire, and curled up against the left arm, pulling a warm, familiar smelling blanket over her cold legs. Sighing in a warmed comfort, she opened her rather thick book and sank deeper into the couch, and deeper into the story.
She hummed softly to herself, smiling, feeling comfortable on this brisk, snowy morning. In reply to her hummings, the fire raised in height, licking far over the high mantle piece. She glanced up from her book sternly, and the fire returned to where it originally was...