Post by Atra Alveus on Sept 9, 2006 18:26:03 GMT -5
((It is requested this thread remain open to only those in the immediate circle of the roleplay. If you are not sure if you are in this immediate circle, and the circle is tight, maybe you should rethink your decision to post. Merci.))
Orion was finally asleep. Atra had known the boy would have problems sleeping after what he had witnessed. At least he had seemingly settled in. At least he had apparently adapted to what would be his new life with her. The boy was her charge now; the late Count Scorpius’ will had been for the panther to protect his former apprentice.
The late Count Scorpius? The word “late” rolled around awkwardly on her mental tongue. He was not the late Count. Sure, many believed the man was finally dead, finally defeated. Ata Alveus knew better, however, than to underestimate the man she respected as a wizard and soul. She knew better than to underestimate herself and the power growing inside of her.
Orion , she began writing on a small slip of paper in ink the color of her eyes and her signature swirls and curls of cursive. I will be back shortly from an errand I must run. Use the portkey to Firefox should danger arise. - Atra
Where was she going? Atra stuck the note on Orion’s forehead with a temporary sticky spell so he would be sure to find it. Then she checked all of the windows and doors of the new house to make sure they were locked. That’s right, the new house. In an effort to “raise” Orion in a more normal environment with less travel, she moved to a house just on the outskirts of Triangle Tunnel. However, the existence of a new house was beyond the point at the moment.
The ring. The stone was cracked, so what? So many people were basing their ideas of Scorpius’ death on the cracked ring. She shook her head in disgust. People could be so moronic but she never thought the wizarding community would follow suit. The ring controlled emotion, not life, and the woman knew very well that emotion was not a necessity of life.
Sighing heavily, she continued to pace around the pedestal holding the Count’s belongings He would want them back, she assumed. It would be tricky to get them out of the glass, but she was confident a thought would come to her. “Plus tard,” she told herself softly, gazing at the ring. Its history was flooding her mind. The mythology, the legend, was flowing through her veins like was yesterday’s blood. She was Pythia, oracle at Delphi, direct connection with Gaia, protector of the scorpion in all its forms.
Her head perked out of its stone-like pose. There was something in the air. A chill ran up her spine as a gust of wind rattled the leaves around her. Something was coming. A bright white light covered her sight, but the light was not around her. She was Seeing. The spell Oracle cast to open the young French witch’s mind was working, maybe a little too well.
A second gust swept a whirlwind of autumnal leaves around her. Her short black locks moved with the wind, blowing in her face. Her arms rose up beside her without any effort. Thunder rumbled across the sky. Daylight was breaking, the sun rising like a giant fireball against the Spanish backdrop.
Orion was finally asleep. Atra had known the boy would have problems sleeping after what he had witnessed. At least he had seemingly settled in. At least he had apparently adapted to what would be his new life with her. The boy was her charge now; the late Count Scorpius’ will had been for the panther to protect his former apprentice.
The late Count Scorpius? The word “late” rolled around awkwardly on her mental tongue. He was not the late Count. Sure, many believed the man was finally dead, finally defeated. Ata Alveus knew better, however, than to underestimate the man she respected as a wizard and soul. She knew better than to underestimate herself and the power growing inside of her.
Orion , she began writing on a small slip of paper in ink the color of her eyes and her signature swirls and curls of cursive. I will be back shortly from an errand I must run. Use the portkey to Firefox should danger arise. - Atra
Where was she going? Atra stuck the note on Orion’s forehead with a temporary sticky spell so he would be sure to find it. Then she checked all of the windows and doors of the new house to make sure they were locked. That’s right, the new house. In an effort to “raise” Orion in a more normal environment with less travel, she moved to a house just on the outskirts of Triangle Tunnel. However, the existence of a new house was beyond the point at the moment.
The ring. The stone was cracked, so what? So many people were basing their ideas of Scorpius’ death on the cracked ring. She shook her head in disgust. People could be so moronic but she never thought the wizarding community would follow suit. The ring controlled emotion, not life, and the woman knew very well that emotion was not a necessity of life.
Sighing heavily, she continued to pace around the pedestal holding the Count’s belongings He would want them back, she assumed. It would be tricky to get them out of the glass, but she was confident a thought would come to her. “Plus tard,” she told herself softly, gazing at the ring. Its history was flooding her mind. The mythology, the legend, was flowing through her veins like was yesterday’s blood. She was Pythia, oracle at Delphi, direct connection with Gaia, protector of the scorpion in all its forms.
Her head perked out of its stone-like pose. There was something in the air. A chill ran up her spine as a gust of wind rattled the leaves around her. Something was coming. A bright white light covered her sight, but the light was not around her. She was Seeing. The spell Oracle cast to open the young French witch’s mind was working, maybe a little too well.
A second gust swept a whirlwind of autumnal leaves around her. Her short black locks moved with the wind, blowing in her face. Her arms rose up beside her without any effort. Thunder rumbled across the sky. Daylight was breaking, the sun rising like a giant fireball against the Spanish backdrop.