Post by Professor Roeswood on Jul 30, 2007 16:25:07 GMT -5
Marina had always tried to avoid allowing herself to be consumed in gloom and melancholy. Even at the worst time in her life, a time when she went home every break to horrors untold, the former Prefect had tried to keep a cheerful air, and that effort had afforded her a lot of friends.
Fastfoward to this moment, and Nina was floundering. She'd graduated, and as an effort to secure herself a home she wouldn't have otherwise, she'd taken a position as a Professor when she wasn't quite sure at all how to be one. Aside from this predicament, emotionally she was a total wreck. Due to her forgotten encounter with Orifiel, the only memories that ever seemed to surface anymore were the ones that made her sad. She thought constantly of abandonment and loneliness. She was consumed by the thought that she had no friends, no family, and very few acquaintances. The girl who once had kept herself so composed was now a shell of a woman. Her green robes hung loosely from her rapidly thinning frame.
Marina did not have the heart to pollute the school with her depression any longer. Thus, she retreated to a place where she felt it would be accepted, expected even: the crypt. Here she could mourn alone, and if anyone stumbled upon her she would not be questioned. In truth, she was not here to visit any grave. Hayzie had been an acquaintance, and while she had many fond memories of her antics, they hadn't really been friends since Marina's 5th year. Professor Ravenwood had taught a class Marina didn't take, and although she was sorry that he had perished, she hadn't really felt any sorrow beyond what she would've felt if she read about the death of an anonymous stranger in the Daily Prophet.
As she strode through the crypt, Nina could not contain herself anymore, and her vision began to blur with unshed tears. She fell to her knees in front of Slytherin's tomb, resting her hands on the alabaster marble and sobbing. She needed somebody, anybody, to find her a way out of this living nightmare of repetition and feeling unfulfilled. She needed a guide.
"What do I do?" Nina asked aloud. She would know the answer if she knew who had done this to her, but Orifiel had erased that portion of her memory after he had distorted the rest. He had executed his plan with precision, and its purpose was realized. The woman was saddened but only enough: too much to function but too little to self-destruct.
Fastfoward to this moment, and Nina was floundering. She'd graduated, and as an effort to secure herself a home she wouldn't have otherwise, she'd taken a position as a Professor when she wasn't quite sure at all how to be one. Aside from this predicament, emotionally she was a total wreck. Due to her forgotten encounter with Orifiel, the only memories that ever seemed to surface anymore were the ones that made her sad. She thought constantly of abandonment and loneliness. She was consumed by the thought that she had no friends, no family, and very few acquaintances. The girl who once had kept herself so composed was now a shell of a woman. Her green robes hung loosely from her rapidly thinning frame.
Marina did not have the heart to pollute the school with her depression any longer. Thus, she retreated to a place where she felt it would be accepted, expected even: the crypt. Here she could mourn alone, and if anyone stumbled upon her she would not be questioned. In truth, she was not here to visit any grave. Hayzie had been an acquaintance, and while she had many fond memories of her antics, they hadn't really been friends since Marina's 5th year. Professor Ravenwood had taught a class Marina didn't take, and although she was sorry that he had perished, she hadn't really felt any sorrow beyond what she would've felt if she read about the death of an anonymous stranger in the Daily Prophet.
As she strode through the crypt, Nina could not contain herself anymore, and her vision began to blur with unshed tears. She fell to her knees in front of Slytherin's tomb, resting her hands on the alabaster marble and sobbing. She needed somebody, anybody, to find her a way out of this living nightmare of repetition and feeling unfulfilled. She needed a guide.
"What do I do?" Nina asked aloud. She would know the answer if she knew who had done this to her, but Orifiel had erased that portion of her memory after he had distorted the rest. He had executed his plan with precision, and its purpose was realized. The woman was saddened but only enough: too much to function but too little to self-destruct.