Post by FINN MICHAEL KIERAN on Dec 8, 2013 12:50:53 GMT -8
Finn loved going to the black lake. Just walking its shoreline made him think of home. It had the same kind of jagged peaks surrounding it that he had walked near in County Kerry so often. It made him homesick, but staved it off at the same time. He hadn't seen the shores of his home in two years. Going back with Rabastan was a time he hadn't really counted, as they were there on personal business, not to reminisce and see the sights.
He walked along, kicking a stone into the still waterline, sending minute ripples across its surface. The common room wasn't a very bright place to be as of late. Too much inner turmoil, too many problems in peoples lives that they didn't speak of. The tension in Slytherin House was as thick as a morning fog, and twice as dense. But that was just how it was. No one really knew how they had to live. The expectations that came with coming from families such as theirs. Granted Finn had abandoned every expectation of his fathers with pride, but he felt for his housemates who were bound by duty.
It was chilly, and the wind was bitter as it blew across the obsidian waters. It held no effect over Finn though. The dismal weather never had. Cold and rain were as common to him as the sun was to people who lived in a desert.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, wandering along. He was disconnected. Like he had lost some of his pieces but couldn't recall where to find them. Sobriety tended to do that to him. Things became too clear, memories he chose not to remember were suddenly open for recollection. But he cast them aside, letting the wind blow past him to whisk them away with silent regard. As the silence overcame when the breeze ceased, he began to hum an old Irish lullaby.
He sat down, just at the edge of the water, the gentle waves breaking over the tips of his boots. Picking up a handful of small stones, he crossed his arms over his knees, tossing them at the water.
He walked along, kicking a stone into the still waterline, sending minute ripples across its surface. The common room wasn't a very bright place to be as of late. Too much inner turmoil, too many problems in peoples lives that they didn't speak of. The tension in Slytherin House was as thick as a morning fog, and twice as dense. But that was just how it was. No one really knew how they had to live. The expectations that came with coming from families such as theirs. Granted Finn had abandoned every expectation of his fathers with pride, but he felt for his housemates who were bound by duty.
It was chilly, and the wind was bitter as it blew across the obsidian waters. It held no effect over Finn though. The dismal weather never had. Cold and rain were as common to him as the sun was to people who lived in a desert.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, wandering along. He was disconnected. Like he had lost some of his pieces but couldn't recall where to find them. Sobriety tended to do that to him. Things became too clear, memories he chose not to remember were suddenly open for recollection. But he cast them aside, letting the wind blow past him to whisk them away with silent regard. As the silence overcame when the breeze ceased, he began to hum an old Irish lullaby.
He sat down, just at the edge of the water, the gentle waves breaking over the tips of his boots. Picking up a handful of small stones, he crossed his arms over his knees, tossing them at the water.
