Godiva Gryffindor (godivag) wrote in flippedrpg, @ 2012-03-24 16:28:00 |
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The room was colour, all red and black. She ought to feel comforted by the deep, richness of the red for the colour had never ceased to calm the raging storm within her. But when she looked at this red all she saw was the bewildering perfection. No cords out of place, no blemishes. And when she sought to understand the magic with her wand she realized that no magic had set these crimson sheets, no sorcery and made the fabric smoother than silk. The infernal chiming was sounding yet again. Last time it had brought them to this frozen land, overwhelming so many and causing complaint after complaint. She felt cold. Bitterly cold, cold down to her bones. And there was nothing she could transfigure to start a fire. All she could hope was that soon she'd be in another, happier place. Perhaps soon she'd be home. All the others looked as though they belonged here. They arrived in perfect clothing, their speech sounded so similar except for a few notable exceptions. They didn't gaze at the spigots of water and the extravagance of construction with shock and awe like Godiva did. They understood this world, for all that they professed they did not. The children looked quiet at easy, the brave souls that children always are. But she, Godiva, she didn't feel quite brave enough for this world. She wanted her friends with her and her people. This was an adventure but this changing of time was so much for her. And it was still ringing. More change was coming. Godiva wrenched the book to the ground and took her sword, stabbing it repeatedly, hacking through it within seconds so that the pages were tatters and littered the floor. She tossed the sword to the floor and turned her back on the mess, kneeling to the ground and pressing her forehead against the soft plush of the bed, enjoying the silence that the broken journal afforded. She didn't want an adventure like this on her own, even if she knew she could manage it. Where was Rowan with his stories and debate to pass away the hours? Hector, who knew how to manage new situations with great aplomb, and her dearest friend, S[alazar], with whom she could talk to from sunup to sundown? Together they could search out the mysteries of this place and bring back knowledge to share with the students that they had dedicated their lives to. If. If she returned home to them. Godiva turned and saw the book was righted once again. She was headed somewhere else, perhaps further and further away from the home and friends she loved so desperately. |