Blaise Alexandros Mordred Zabini (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} widows_child) wrote in ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} rent_asunder,@ 2008-03-27 20:03:00 |
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WHO: Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass
WHAT: Blaise needs a friend more than ever right now
WHEN: Backdated 15 March
WHERE: Daphne’s place
RATING: Unrated as of yet
Incomplete
~ ~ ~
Blaise rapped sharply on the front door of Daphne’s townhouse, waiting impatiently for the elf to let him in. The weather seemed, for once, to reflect his mood. The sky was roiling with unspent storm clouds, a taste of ozone on the air that hinted of the tempest to come. Muggles were hurrying to get home, glancing up at the sky warily as they huddled in their coats. He glared at them as they went past, many of them picking up speed to avoid suffering under his fierce gaze for long. Part of him wanted to shout at them, tell them that they were all idiots who knew nothing of the true world that hated them, that feared them. Tell them that they were fools for blithely strolling around when madmen fought about how their betters would treat them, how they were so completely blind. He knew on some rational level that his mood was not their fault, that stupid Muggles were really too inconsequential to make a difference, and that it was because of the situation with Theo and Mother that he felt like kicking something.
He rather hoped that talking with Daphne could make a difference. Something had to give. His chest felt tight and twisted, as though his heart were a rag that was being wrung to squeeze out every possible drop of liquid from it. Tapping his foot impatiently, he knocked a second time, unsure of how long it had been since he’d knocked first but growing more impatient by the second.
WHAT: Blaise needs a friend more than ever right now
WHEN: Backdated 15 March
WHERE: Daphne’s place
RATING: Unrated as of yet
Incomplete
Blaise rapped sharply on the front door of Daphne’s townhouse, waiting impatiently for the elf to let him in. The weather seemed, for once, to reflect his mood. The sky was roiling with unspent storm clouds, a taste of ozone on the air that hinted of the tempest to come. Muggles were hurrying to get home, glancing up at the sky warily as they huddled in their coats. He glared at them as they went past, many of them picking up speed to avoid suffering under his fierce gaze for long. Part of him wanted to shout at them, tell them that they were all idiots who knew nothing of the true world that hated them, that feared them. Tell them that they were fools for blithely strolling around when madmen fought about how their betters would treat them, how they were so completely blind. He knew on some rational level that his mood was not their fault, that stupid Muggles were really too inconsequential to make a difference, and that it was because of the situation with Theo and Mother that he felt like kicking something.
He rather hoped that talking with Daphne could make a difference. Something had to give. His chest felt tight and twisted, as though his heart were a rag that was being wrung to squeeze out every possible drop of liquid from it. Tapping his foot impatiently, he knocked a second time, unsure of how long it had been since he’d knocked first but growing more impatient by the second.
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