Dean Thomas (artisticdean) wrote in eighth_rpg, @ 2010-12-06 00:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | alecto carrow, dean thomas |
WHO: Dean Thomas and Alecto Carrow
WHAT: A run in with a path down memory lane
WHERE: Random London Street
WHEN: Sunday Night
RATING: High
Unsure how to think of the event that surfaced the following everning, Dean had set out merely for a walk through the darkness. It seemed almost pathetic that he had been laughing and spending time with a couple of mates, some that he hadn't been all too familar with as well, while Azkaban dwindled in numbers rapidly in a short amount of time. To be honest, it felt pretty lousy, almost like he should have been there to even make an attempt to cease the chaos, despite knowing fully well that one person couldn't have made an difference in that situation. However, he had been optomistic about it all, knowing that history did repeat itself. The same event had occurred a couple of years previously, and the outcome had turned out in the side of good. He didn't have any doubt that the same would happen once again. The part that lingered within his thoughts were of the position he held towards the end of the war. On the run. Captured. Not good things that would amaze anyone within a resume, even though there hadn't been much he could have done as a whole. It would have been a slight chance to redeem himself sooner rather than later.
Dean slipped his hands within his pockets, glancing directly in front of him. Thoughts jumbled together and ran every single way causing himself to become slightly confused. Not much bothered him. Really. Everyone that knew him took note of that easily. It was the fact that his friends could be placed in danger again that made him consistantly check each possible idea that might dift within his mind. Even with that, he couldn't deny to himself that he was a bit worried about Seamus. He had responded to Lavender's cry for help entry within her jounal, not that he would pass such a thing up from a good friend of his. The lack of arrival from his best friend struck him as a bit odd. Seamus was a man of his word. It had always been that way. Deciding to forgo any possible conversation that may worry the blonde woman to become utterly terrified, Dean kept such thoughts within himself. Now that it had been over a day without any form of explaination or apology, it was safe to say that the lack of the Irish was seriously troublesome.
If Professor Trelawney had been correct with her prediction for once, then she had been a couple of days off. However, it did remind him to send an owl to Seamus once he settled back down within his warm home, possibly a private journal entry as well just for the hell of it.
As Dean stepped into the light that shined down from a lamp post, he glanced behind him. For a moment, he had thought that he had heard something within the darkness. A rustle. Footstep. He hadn't been too sure on exactly what the noise had been. Allowing his eyebrows to fur together, a hand wrapped around his wand slightly, before realizing how foolish he was acting at that moment. His imagination had been playing tricks on him. After all, Hermione did complement him on having such a brilliant thing. Maybe it was better than he had thought. Shaking his head a bit, Dean allowed a breathy, short laugh exit part from his lip, before continuing on.