Post by Leseur Follet on Nov 3, 2009 23:30:40 GMT -5
The last hints of sun light showed through the window as Leseur Follet walked across his room to his dresser and placed some freshly washed clothes into the drawer. He'd been forced to relocate after a wild and obnoxious Gryffindor child decided he was going to cast a few spells around the green house. Unfortunately the backlash from the plants ended up destroying a great majority of the green house. This, in turn, forced him into the school more often. His time spent tending to plants and various shrubbery was now spent idly hanging out as he waited for the repairs to be complete.
His eyes darted around the seemingly foreign room. His time spent here was little to none. He mostly worked, and slept sometimes, in the greenhouse. It more resembled his true home, the woods, then the cold stone walls of the castle.
Heaving a sigh of mild frustration and depression he sat back on his bed staring out the window watching the orange light of the sun slowly disappear behind the mountainous terrain of this remote part of Spain. His hands slowly felt over the sheets thinking back to his days in France in hotels and apartments. The sheets had more texture to them now, ever since his change anyway. There were times he valued his new life and held it high. Now though it seemed he began to miss the old life. The one that allowed him to eat normal food and appreciate it truly the life that allowed him to walk down hallways and not be able to tell who was around the corner just by the sound of their footsteps, the life that gave him so many pleasures that he couldn't appreciate now that his beastly alter-ego told him he didn't need.
Slowly the white-haired Frenchman turned toward the door which hung open in his wake. Maybe he should go eat the bland dinner that was prepared every night by the unseen chefs.
His eyes darted around the seemingly foreign room. His time spent here was little to none. He mostly worked, and slept sometimes, in the greenhouse. It more resembled his true home, the woods, then the cold stone walls of the castle.
Heaving a sigh of mild frustration and depression he sat back on his bed staring out the window watching the orange light of the sun slowly disappear behind the mountainous terrain of this remote part of Spain. His hands slowly felt over the sheets thinking back to his days in France in hotels and apartments. The sheets had more texture to them now, ever since his change anyway. There were times he valued his new life and held it high. Now though it seemed he began to miss the old life. The one that allowed him to eat normal food and appreciate it truly the life that allowed him to walk down hallways and not be able to tell who was around the corner just by the sound of their footsteps, the life that gave him so many pleasures that he couldn't appreciate now that his beastly alter-ego told him he didn't need.
Slowly the white-haired Frenchman turned toward the door which hung open in his wake. Maybe he should go eat the bland dinner that was prepared every night by the unseen chefs.