Post by Meduzia on Mar 17, 2014 20:36:56 GMT 1
For 30 days of SA: Day Seventeen - Magic AU Also blonde Teter because human Teter ey e 7 e <33
Leave all your love and your longing behind
You can't carry it with you if you want to survive
Florence + the Machine - Dog Days are Over
One step, two, three, four more-- four more, and then six more and then two more-- all in all, she has lost the count of how many times she's stepped anymore, she's lost the count of the stairs, but it doesn't matter.
Teter Sevan, somebody calls her name out, come to me, Teter Sevan. She's busy, she says, and worms her way out of the clutches of however it is and then she's gone-- Gone, gone and she's where she was, where she is right now, in the middle of nowhere. She feels as though she is headed nowhere, like she's standing nowhere and like she came from nowhere, so it fits. She is the nobody, as well, so it fits. It fits, of course it does, and the woman goes further into the forest than she initially thought she would.
The dark mark on her forearm itches - not because it does, but because she's thinking of it, and it always itches when she thinks of it.
This is it, a voice in her head says, That is your whole being, in one image. That's her, to the very damn core, and there's nothing more and nothing less to her. She is just one another, just one of them - of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, who is as disposable as much as she's is useful. She walks on further.
She doesn't know why she came to the woods anyway. Take care of the Snatchers, the Dark Lord said, but she cares little for what he says, as long as she does not directly anger him, or disobey him enough to kill her. She does not feel bad for the guy who died instead of her last week; that shit she can always pull again. With a soft sigh, she takes the edges of her black cloak, as much as she can manage to grab onto them, and throws the hood over her head. There is no need for the disgusting mask thing - it's not like people wouldn't be able to tell it's her, what with the curly blonde hair and small stature. She sometimes wishes she was taller, but then remembers how easily small people can be disregarded.
As it is, there is no sign of Snatchers, the lazy asses. With a tired sigh, Teter bunches up the fabric of her cloak in one of her hands and takes her wand with another. Woods are a fickle area, though a good one if you wish to kill somebody. Her breath is fogging in the early morning air, and she really thinks that most opponents would freeze to death or something.
She's not in mood for fights, but this is Teter Sevan. She never really is.
Leave all your love and your longing behind
You can't carry it with you if you want to survive
Florence + the Machine - Dog Days are Over
One step, two, three, four more-- four more, and then six more and then two more-- all in all, she has lost the count of how many times she's stepped anymore, she's lost the count of the stairs, but it doesn't matter.
Teter Sevan, somebody calls her name out, come to me, Teter Sevan. She's busy, she says, and worms her way out of the clutches of however it is and then she's gone-- Gone, gone and she's where she was, where she is right now, in the middle of nowhere. She feels as though she is headed nowhere, like she's standing nowhere and like she came from nowhere, so it fits. She is the nobody, as well, so it fits. It fits, of course it does, and the woman goes further into the forest than she initially thought she would.
The dark mark on her forearm itches - not because it does, but because she's thinking of it, and it always itches when she thinks of it.
This is it, a voice in her head says, That is your whole being, in one image. That's her, to the very damn core, and there's nothing more and nothing less to her. She is just one another, just one of them - of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, who is as disposable as much as she's is useful. She walks on further.
She doesn't know why she came to the woods anyway. Take care of the Snatchers, the Dark Lord said, but she cares little for what he says, as long as she does not directly anger him, or disobey him enough to kill her. She does not feel bad for the guy who died instead of her last week; that shit she can always pull again. With a soft sigh, she takes the edges of her black cloak, as much as she can manage to grab onto them, and throws the hood over her head. There is no need for the disgusting mask thing - it's not like people wouldn't be able to tell it's her, what with the curly blonde hair and small stature. She sometimes wishes she was taller, but then remembers how easily small people can be disregarded.
As it is, there is no sign of Snatchers, the lazy asses. With a tired sigh, Teter bunches up the fabric of her cloak in one of her hands and takes her wand with another. Woods are a fickle area, though a good one if you wish to kill somebody. Her breath is fogging in the early morning air, and she really thinks that most opponents would freeze to death or something.
She's not in mood for fights, but this is Teter Sevan. She never really is.