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Post by aramis.ezra.lennox on Nov 26, 2011 23:11:28 GMT -5
 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -LITTLE DARLING, THE SMILES RETURNING TO THE FACESlittle darling, it seems like years since it's been here- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Okay. From the very moment he woke up, he'd been having an extremely cruel day. So very unusual, because most days of his life, not to be haughty, were perfect.
First, he was freezing to death. Whereas the bedroom had been comfortable, warm, and romantic (because he knew the way to get this girl in the mood was by the clichéd romantic stuff -i.e, the candles, drinks (butterbeer thank you, though he would have preferred wine or firewhiskey), fireplace, canopy bed, and sweet talk or cooing) the night before, the morning was a cold revelation. The room of requirement did wonders. The only problem had been the fire. It was out, and the girl in bed with him had stolen all the covers from him. He lay on the large bed in only his boxer shorts, his legs uncovered. His torso was covered, but by a mass of dark hair, the sleeping beauty.
This leads to cruelty number two, the girl. She lay on the majority of his chest, and her arms wrapped around him like a monkey. Her face pressed into his chest, and when he'd made to move, she pushed in closer. Aramis felt a cooling substance on his chest, and threw his head back down on the pillow. Drool. How atrocious. But luckily the brunette wasn't bonded together forever with the blonde young man. The more he got with her, the more things he found he disliked about her. Her name, for one, was unattractive. Luckily, however, she had a pretty face.
And the grip of an iron fist. It took the blonde numerous minutes to get out of the bed without waking her. An act that might seem kind in letting her sleep, but in reality, he just didn't want to deal with her. Once out of the bed, Aramis moved through the room like a ghost. He picked up his rings, sliding them onto his fingers quickly, and picked up the pieces to his Ravenclaw robes. He slid on his trousers, and stepped into his shoes. He fled the room without leaving a note.
They hadn't been that close, anyway.
A shower (and a few million years spent on fixing his hair) later, Aramis strode into the Great Hall, for a really late breakfast. The blonde sat at his regular spot. He'd just gotten done stirring sugar in his tea, when the owl came about. Someone a bit farther down the table let out a, "Blimey, 't's the third time that's come about in the last hour!" Aramis rolled his eyes, and took a croissant from the platter in front of him, about to voice his thoughts about how long it took him to eat and how much he'd eaten if he'd been sitting there for an hour. The Great Hall wasn't that interesting anymore, not after sixth years of it, and when better things to do were available. But before he said anything, the white owl flew over him, dropping a letter down in front of him.
He'd at first thought it'd been from his mother or father. But that hadn't been their owl, and the last time he checked they hadn't gotten a new one. If they had anyways, Aramis would have been the last person they saw fit to tell. It didn't belong to either of the Lennoxes. It belonged to Cupid, the very little fat baby that made his day extremely torturous and cruel, and it wasn't even half over yet.
His days of freedom were up without a warning. If he'd known the road of freedom was coming to a dead end so soon, he would have shagged some other girl the previous night, not the brunette with the awful name. She was good, but he wouldn't have wanted her to be his last taste of liberty. Aramis groaned, and skimmed the letter only to re-read it once again to make sure that it was in fact what he was reading, and not a trick.
Ryleigh Digout. Ryleigh Digout. Ryleigh Digout. Redhead, matched her name. Ravenclaw. He knew her at least. Didn't talk to her much, not as of late, but he knew her. He scanned the table for any sign of her flaming hair, and when he saw none, he skipped out on his tea and left to Ravenclaw Tower with his croissant in on hand and a purple flower from a vase on the table in the other.
It didn't take him long to get ready. His mother made him bring his "match" outfit to school with him just in case. Though, when he first pulled it out of his trunk, he loathed the sight of it. Not because it didn't match his usual elegant style (on weekends), but the occasion. He slid his arms through the white suit jacket smoothly, and glanced at himself in the mirror of his dorm for about a minute less than usual.
The walk to Room 115 was slow. Like a long torturous death, a part of Aramis' independence dying with every step in his black dress shoes. He took quick strides to the room, as to avoid people from seeing him all dressed up, no doubt knowing what was happening. Not that he would have cared to tell them he was going to see Ryleigh. He didn't mind her at all, and would have been fine with catching up with. It's the fact that the appointment was made by Cupid that irritated him. That fact was very evident in the hardness of his facial features as he turned the doorknob. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
LITTLE DARLING, I FEEL THAT ICE IS SLOWLY MELTING
little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - tagged; ryleigh digout
lyrics; here comes the sun by the beatles
listening to; spotlight by mute math
word count; 9 1 9
outfit; here
notes; this is so choppy. :(
credit; to brooke from caution |
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Post by ryleigh.erika.digout on Nov 27, 2011 14:30:55 GMT -5
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never gonna fake it
cupid might lead the world to believe that he was some all-powerful freak- er, god, but if he wasn't careful he'd soon get a very pissed off sixth year ravenclaw at his door with a few choice curses pointed in his direction. okay, so he thought he could dictate people's lives. fine. he thought he could set her up with a guy a year older than her. fine. but no one, no one forced ryleigh digout to wear a bloody dress and got away with it! the word dress was barely in the female's vocabulary. she shuddered at the idea of floor length poofy gowns, elaborate hairstyles, and everything most other girls enjoyed and dreamed about. she didn't like lowering herself to society's standards of beauty, and was far more comfortable in jeans and a baggy t-shirt than even a skirt or a blouse. because of her views on them, the girl obviously did not own any dresses. so when the letter came she panicked. ironically not because cupid had decided she was old enough to 'settle down' at sixteen, but because she was required to wear a dress and did not have one nor want to have one. she'd save the anger over the actual match for a later time. luckily her friend, kristi, was about as girly-girl as you could get and had a wide variety of 'pretty' outfits of every size and shape. as much as ryleigh had hated doing so, she'd dug through kristi's outfits, finally picking a short black dress. it was the least girlyish item of suitable clothing that kristi had in her wardrobe. was ryleigh supposed to be wearing a color that related to her house? ...too bad. she hated the color navy. the dress and high heels, also borrowed from kristi, were the extent of effort that ryleigh wanted to put into her appearance. she left her hair hanging in its natural loose curls down past her shoulders and set off towards room 115. she took her sweet time to reach the room; she'd gotten her owl before she'd even gone down to the great hall, and hadn't eaten, so the majority of the rest of the school was probably enjoying their single-life breakfasts. there was barely a soul in the halls to see her on her way. fine with her. she didn't exactly desire company today; the company of aramis would be by far enough. she was at cupid's hall far too soon for her liking, but luckily when she walked into the dreaded room 115 her match hadn't yet arrived. not that it made too much difference, she supposed... once he arrived the one hour would begin, and not a moment sooner. unfortunately, without someone else in the room, it didn't seem that there was much to do but twiddle thumbs as ryleigh sat on one of the chairs in the room, legs crossed until she rose when she heard the doorknob turning. "hey." he looked about as thrilled as she felt, which was at least one thing they had in common, but if all cupid's matches had in common was their dislike of matches the god was entirely screwed up. "why so serious, dear?" if she couldn't make fun of this entire blasted situation with sarcasm what was the point of it? |
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Post by aramis.ezra.lennox on Nov 30, 2011 16:19:07 GMT -5
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -LITTLE DARLING, THE SMILES RETURNING TO THE FACESlittle darling, it seems like years since it's been here- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Aramis stood in the doorway. Half hoping that if he stood there long enough that this whole being matched thing would be retracted and he can go back to his teenaged bachelor-hood without caring about something like that. Maybe if he stood there long enough he wouldn't be forced to had to go through with this, that Cupid would be a nice little fat child and tell him that it was just a joke, a game and a practice for the real thing. If he just stood there maybe time would freeze and he wouldn't have to go through with this one hour that would be the beginning of the change of his life. But Cupid was a sick sadistic little thing and wasn't going to let him out of this. That he knew. Aramis wasn't optimistic, the glass was half empty and his time was up.
He took a step into the room, and the door automatically shut behind him. There was a click, a snap, and that signaled the very beginning of this very new life that felt like the plague. He looked at his new wife-to-be, he couldn't see her anything but now, as they were no doubt to be married whenever Hogwarts was finished. It's what his parents would like, approve of. They were pro-Cupid. But Aramis didn't know if it was a charade to mask their fear, the honest truth, or just because they knew no better. He didn't like to think of his parents as daft. They weren't. Extremely bright, and it was obvious that their brains were the only thing they really had in common.
They were emotionless when it came to each other, each never being around when the other was. And neither being around when Aramis was.
The blonde moved to take a seat, not bothering to respond to Ryleigh more than just looking at her. His face stayed hard and emotionless. As he ground his teeth together he tossed the flower onto the table without a second thought. Unlike Ryleigh, he didn't find anything funny out of this situation. How could it possibly be funny when his whole life was changing out of his control? It wasn't. It was the worst day of his life by far (counting the loneliness of his childhood and the absence of his parents [which now, he really could care less about if asked]). It might have been the worst for her too. Seriously, she was in a dress. and out of the six years he had known her, he didn't remember ever visualizing her in a dress. It was just improbable and preposterous.
He bit back a wry smile and looked up at the redhead. "How screwed up is this?" He asked, though it came out sounding more like a statement. Instead of taking a seat like he'd originally planned, he took off the white jacket, and tossed it over the back of the chair. There was no point in being formal now. The seventh year growled inwardly, and clenched his jaw, staring at the door, and then back at Ryleigh though he really wasn't seeing. Too lost in his own mental despair. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
LITTLE DARLING, I FEEL THAT ICE IS SLOWLY MELTING
little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - tagged; ryleigh digout
lyrics; here comes the sun by the beatles
listening to; spotlight by mute math
word count; 5 2 5
outfit; here
notes; bleh, i just wanted to get this done before my practice.
credit; to brooke from caution |
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Post by ryleigh.erika.digout on Nov 30, 2011 18:03:53 GMT -5
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never gonna fake it
apparently people, in the past, had come out of these matches all happy and 'in love' and ever-so-thankful to the 'almighty' cupid for helping them see the light and realize who the hell they were really meant to be with. ryleigh had her suspicions that anyone who walked away from cupid's party happy with their match had drank some very odd liquid within the room. cupid probably had spies who spiked everything with love potions... after all, if you were locked in the room for an hour with only one person, there was minimal chance of the operation going wrong, right? or maybe it was some sort of love gas... she found her eyes instinctively glancing around the room for any small holes in the wall through which a vapour could be sent as aramis moved towards her, not acknowledging her comment at all. really, ryleigh wasn't a conspiracy theorist... she was nothing that interesting, she just wanted to focus anywhere but at the seventh year guy, because that was a definite reminder of how incredibly awkward the next hour would be for each of them.
she knew that it was impossible to escape the matches, even by just not being matched at all, but was it too hard to ask that she might have a few more years of freedom? c'mon, she was just over half the maximum age that people were matched at... she could have had ten more years, at least, of 'singleness' and have been perfectly happy. but nooo, apparently it was cool to match teenagers with teenagers... you know, maybe this cupid guy was just a couch potato with a tv of the world and an addiction to bad reality tv shows. it certainly made sense...
"How screwed up is this?" oh look, he spoke. the redhead directed her eyes towards him. "completely," she sighed. there was really no way to respond to his comment with some sort of smart comeback when he was saying the truth, or implying it, anyways. "'course, it's probably a bit more screwed for you than it is me," she couldn't resist adding a moment later with a small smirk. oh yes, she knew of his reputation... a guy like him couldn't, er, get around without a few rumors starting. of course the freedom that was lost with matches would suck to anyone, but especially to someone who, as the rumors went, exercised his right to that freedom so often. ryleigh... well, she'd dated, she'd had little secretive not-so-relationshiplike-relationships with a few guys through the years, but nothing too serious that she built a reputation up on it. of course, in the end, reputations didn't make a big difference. who knew what either of them would have turned out to be like if this entire situation hadn't come about... |
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