Post by TEAGAN TEAGAN TEAGAN TEAGAN TE on Oct 2, 2009 21:15:03 GMT -5
Teagan Monolayre, eight years old and counting, popped into the graveyard under skies pouring down water and finally dancing with a bit of lightning. Her wet hair danced around her as she finished the spin of her apparation, and it clung to her tiny neck and muddy robe, occasionally clutching at the cheeks of her pale, youthful face.
The three-foot-nine fifty-three pound girl tracked across the rain-guzzled crypt between gravestones. Tonight, she certainly could not succeed in working out a cure or finding good shelter. It was not as though she had any friends to trust with her identity and stay with. At this school, Morgan Pendragon was probably the person closest to her (that she did not want to kill) only because she lent Teagan some clothing once.
She never had a boyfriend, was scared to death of love, and put forth no effort at accumulating friends. Friends could only cause pain, after all.
Logical, no?
However, she was now officially homeless because she no longer had a dorm at the school and could no longer live in Darren's extra home until she could finish her research and market it. As far as the sparse insurance her impoverished parents could afford when they were alive, it ran out the previous year. They were not exactly high-ranking wealthy inventors or government officials or anything; considering that her mother was a muggle and her father a squib whose wealthy family would not lend him a dime, the outcome was only to be expected...
She trotted to a large tomb, opening it with a flick of her wand. The storm drowned out most of the noise. She crept inside, leaving the door open a crack. She flicked her wand at her eyes, performing a charm that would provide night vision for her; considering her long wand and little arms, it looked more awkward than usual, but it still worked.
She shrunk her bag, pocketing the near-weightless thing her her little robe before slinking her muddy self a little ways deeper into the crypt.
Now that she was in this situation, in a body that could not punch well at all, that could not reach most of a bookshelf, she most fully knew she was all alone.
Felix tried to help her, but people who were neither friends nor enemies and were more so demons that could attack at any moment and hadn't yet disrupted their short truce. She only asked for his help out of convenience, too.
She cleaned herself off with magic and dried herself, too. Her stomach growled about skipping breakfast (she slept instead), lunch (she forgot to eat), and dinner (no money).
This was the first time she grew younger rather than older, but it was not the first time she went hungry and homeless and most certainly up to no good.
She remembered doing this by choice when she released Doneele and when she caused some other mayhem away from whichever safe haven she lived at for the moment. When she had to stay at the Monolayres' mansion, she often opted to go without food just to avoid them. She certainly forgot such trivial matters at school while she was busy perfecting her animagi or studying.
It was no big deal. Now, apparently, her body decided it would not only be sized to that of a little girl's, it would need to eat as much as one. Teagan ignored it absolutely.
In a corner of the crypt, she sat for awhile, waiting out the wind and rain and lightning. Thunder beat away like Thor's hammer to a giant steel drum.
Teagan sat for hours, waiting it out and pondering.
Her soft blue eyes blinked slowly, clashing their long dark lashes together, two finely carved combs coming together and moving apart elegantly with no struggle or mismatching.
It was funny. The only people she had physical contact with on purpose were Lucre and Protege that she could remember ever since she arrived at FFU. She could not even recall touching Ashelle when she visited the Monolayres' household. As for Protege, she blew him off badly and poorly, even though he requested an ally. Perhaps she would have a home now if she were a kinder person, but she doubted she would trust that drunk at all enough to stay in his abode. As far as Lucre went, she threatened to kill him, and that ended that. She had not even seen him since that incident. She could finally admit to herself to liking being with him a little, but she could only do so because he was no longer an imminent threat. Goblins ate him or something. If he poofed out of the skies, she would probably deny everything all over again...
Doneele would have been overjoyed to help, but asking help from her was like a pig asking to experience the process of becoming bacon.
The little girl yawned. By now it was sometime in the evening--six, seven, eight, nine pm? She no clue what time it was. It did not matter to her. Her life was pointless from the beginning. Time was only a drawn-out and painful measurement of death. The storm occasionally lightened, but it continued on like a student facing a bestial exam.
She was grumpy and even more pessimistic than usual. Nevertheless, a cold October chill crept along the stone floor, numbing the feet in her battered old shoes.
She huffed into a corner and stripped her robe off her shirt and jeans. She left it rumpled where she sat a moment ago.
After only a few seconds, the delicate child shifted into her animagus. The animagus was, as she gravely suspected beforehand, only a kitten.
The tiny Russian blue feline padded along the warm apparel and snuggled into its wrinkles. Within moments, she fell asleep. Her blue-gray body expanded and contracted easily as she breathed; her warm little nose stuck itself into the scent of her robe, the pine scent of the sizing potion vivid but pleasant; her tiny white whiskers flicked back around her dumpy square head.
Life was tough, but she survived no matter how much everyone else betrayed her.
The three-foot-nine fifty-three pound girl tracked across the rain-guzzled crypt between gravestones. Tonight, she certainly could not succeed in working out a cure or finding good shelter. It was not as though she had any friends to trust with her identity and stay with. At this school, Morgan Pendragon was probably the person closest to her (that she did not want to kill) only because she lent Teagan some clothing once.
She never had a boyfriend, was scared to death of love, and put forth no effort at accumulating friends. Friends could only cause pain, after all.
Logical, no?
However, she was now officially homeless because she no longer had a dorm at the school and could no longer live in Darren's extra home until she could finish her research and market it. As far as the sparse insurance her impoverished parents could afford when they were alive, it ran out the previous year. They were not exactly high-ranking wealthy inventors or government officials or anything; considering that her mother was a muggle and her father a squib whose wealthy family would not lend him a dime, the outcome was only to be expected...
She trotted to a large tomb, opening it with a flick of her wand. The storm drowned out most of the noise. She crept inside, leaving the door open a crack. She flicked her wand at her eyes, performing a charm that would provide night vision for her; considering her long wand and little arms, it looked more awkward than usual, but it still worked.
She shrunk her bag, pocketing the near-weightless thing her her little robe before slinking her muddy self a little ways deeper into the crypt.
Now that she was in this situation, in a body that could not punch well at all, that could not reach most of a bookshelf, she most fully knew she was all alone.
Felix tried to help her, but people who were neither friends nor enemies and were more so demons that could attack at any moment and hadn't yet disrupted their short truce. She only asked for his help out of convenience, too.
She cleaned herself off with magic and dried herself, too. Her stomach growled about skipping breakfast (she slept instead), lunch (she forgot to eat), and dinner (no money).
This was the first time she grew younger rather than older, but it was not the first time she went hungry and homeless and most certainly up to no good.
She remembered doing this by choice when she released Doneele and when she caused some other mayhem away from whichever safe haven she lived at for the moment. When she had to stay at the Monolayres' mansion, she often opted to go without food just to avoid them. She certainly forgot such trivial matters at school while she was busy perfecting her animagi or studying.
It was no big deal. Now, apparently, her body decided it would not only be sized to that of a little girl's, it would need to eat as much as one. Teagan ignored it absolutely.
In a corner of the crypt, she sat for awhile, waiting out the wind and rain and lightning. Thunder beat away like Thor's hammer to a giant steel drum.
Teagan sat for hours, waiting it out and pondering.
Her soft blue eyes blinked slowly, clashing their long dark lashes together, two finely carved combs coming together and moving apart elegantly with no struggle or mismatching.
It was funny. The only people she had physical contact with on purpose were Lucre and Protege that she could remember ever since she arrived at FFU. She could not even recall touching Ashelle when she visited the Monolayres' household. As for Protege, she blew him off badly and poorly, even though he requested an ally. Perhaps she would have a home now if she were a kinder person, but she doubted she would trust that drunk at all enough to stay in his abode. As far as Lucre went, she threatened to kill him, and that ended that. She had not even seen him since that incident. She could finally admit to herself to liking being with him a little, but she could only do so because he was no longer an imminent threat. Goblins ate him or something. If he poofed out of the skies, she would probably deny everything all over again...
Doneele would have been overjoyed to help, but asking help from her was like a pig asking to experience the process of becoming bacon.
The little girl yawned. By now it was sometime in the evening--six, seven, eight, nine pm? She no clue what time it was. It did not matter to her. Her life was pointless from the beginning. Time was only a drawn-out and painful measurement of death. The storm occasionally lightened, but it continued on like a student facing a bestial exam.
She was grumpy and even more pessimistic than usual. Nevertheless, a cold October chill crept along the stone floor, numbing the feet in her battered old shoes.
She huffed into a corner and stripped her robe off her shirt and jeans. She left it rumpled where she sat a moment ago.
After only a few seconds, the delicate child shifted into her animagus. The animagus was, as she gravely suspected beforehand, only a kitten.
The tiny Russian blue feline padded along the warm apparel and snuggled into its wrinkles. Within moments, she fell asleep. Her blue-gray body expanded and contracted easily as she breathed; her warm little nose stuck itself into the scent of her robe, the pine scent of the sizing potion vivid but pleasant; her tiny white whiskers flicked back around her dumpy square head.
Life was tough, but she survived no matter how much everyone else betrayed her.