Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2013 14:35:58 GMT -8
[/i] A voice rang out in the middle of the street and Max looked up to see one of his elderly neighbors staring at him.
It was important to keep in shape. If there was anything that Maxim Petrov had learned over the past three years, it was that the more that he kept himself moving...kept himself active, the less that the transformations hurt. He looked over at Morgana’s Quill shop, admiring the window display that was there as he reached down to touch his toes in a half-assed attempt at a stretch.
Honestly, he was just ready to get out and run. He wanted to feel the wind through his hair and he wanted to be done with the day. Running a book shop could be so tedious sometimes.
”It’s going to rain,”
He offered her a half-smile that was barely half-hearted and shook his head, ”Should be fine. Prophet said the weather’s blown over.”[/b] He returned and tipped an imaginary hat at the old woman.
”Do be careful, Maxim.”[/i] The woman said, rolling her eyes and then hobbling off back into her store.
‘Snarky old woman,’ Max thought with a slight laugh as he reached down and adjusted the laces on his trainers. When he was finally satisfied that he was ready to get out and get going, he kicked up his feet and began running directly out of Hogsmeade.
He was running as fast as he possibly could, and if anyone had seen him in that moment, they would have assumed that he was running from something. Truth be told, that was almost what it felt like for Max. He felt as if he was running from his past, running from the world. He was running from himself. Time ticked by but Max kept pushing himself until he felt a drop of water hit his face. Immediately he slowed his pace to a full stop, leaning on one of the wood fences that he had been running parallel to.
Max looked up, his bright blue eyes searching the sky for the source of the water, right as more droplets started to fall on his cheeks. ‘Dammit,’ He internally cursed. He knew that he was more than two miles outside of Hogsmeade and there was no way that he was going to strain himself to run all the way back in a dead spring. Instead, reaching up and tousling his hair, Max pushed off the wood fencing and began running again, his head tucked low as he did. The rain was beginning to pound a little bit harder against his scalp, practically drenching his hair, but Max didn’t care. He felt free running through the dirt path outside the village. He felt like nothing could stop him - he didn’t feel tortured by what he was, or tortured about what he had done. Maxim Petrov felt as if -
He had just crashed into someone. His scalp was now throbbing. While running, he hadn’t been paying attention and was now nursing a headache because he had literally run smack-dab into someone in the middle of the path, ”I’m so sorry-”[/b] Max managed to say, his Russian accent running thick through his words like slow molasses, his hand still on his head, practically wincing. He looked up, hoping that the person that he had dearly destroyed was alright.
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