WHO: Astoria Greengrass [+ Open]
WHEN: Friday night
WHERE: Deck
WHAT: Astoria's lonely.
Astoria leaned over the railing on the lower deck. She wasn't planning on jumping -- even if it were possible to harm herself, as a Greengrass, she had more class than that. No, she was only watching the murky waves roll by the ship, lost in her own self-pitying thoughts about her situation.
"This must be purgatory," she mused, watching a particularly large wave hit the side of the ship. See? Even the ocean agreed with her.
The ship seemed like more of a playground for Dumbledore's little proteges (and rather heavy on the Weasley-Potter family tree, in her opinion) than anything else. The only people she seemed to know from before were Romilda Vane (unacceptable) and Theodore Nott (not very amusing in his grown-up state). And meanwhile, she had a self-proclaimed son running around the ship with some redhead, undoubtedly a Weasley herself. If all that didn't qualify as a sort of hell-bound limbo, she didn't know what did.