The Attic

Subject: Re: The Attic Thu Apr 19, 2012 2:54 am

Misery slept peacefully until that evening, her mind completely at ease. She realized so upon waking, that Sorrow must have acted on his own after all and relieved her head of stress and unclear images; she hadn't her nightmares and felt infinitely grateful. For how long this peace would last, she dared not wonder.

She shifted slightly, her eyes fluttering open to the soft darkness that surrounded her. A whisper hung in the air, was sown into the quilt that covered her. It felt heavy on her body, so Misery pushed it away and allowed herself some freedom. But the warmth lingered, prickling her skin in a comforting way. Thought of Xander looking out for her as well made her smile.

For a moment, Misery felt like her old self. She thought about what she might do to repay Xander for his hospitality, but then her smile dropped; she knew exactly what she was supposed to do and she knew just as equally that Xander wouldn't let her do it.
Not yet, anyway.

Aware of the tension in her shoulders, Misery willed herself to relax, then stood feeling strong. However, her body seemed to like pulling tricks on her; the vampire stumbled on shaky legs, taking a moment to resume control. With an excessive roll of her eyes, Misery straightened up, turned back to the couch to fold the quilt, then crossed the room in a glide and descended down the stairs.

Subject: Re: The Attic Sun Apr 22, 2012 11:22 pm

There was a note pin to the door.

Dear Misery Grace,

~~How can fate be so cruel?~~ Scratch that. How come we haven't blown something to smithereens yet? Four the pass four days we have been to busy or to exhausted to officially hang out.

I am at Hogwarts Now. Have classes now, on the right way to use mandrake in Potions class.
Have fun exploring my house. Don't let Truffle's sit on your face. He might smother you.

I'll See you later.
-Luke
P.S.

The last three words were erased, and smothered in now dried ink.

Subject: Re: The Attic Mon Apr 23, 2012 12:04 pm

Misery spent hours in the backyard, enjoying the silence interrupted by the nightly sounds of the forest; the soft wind that caressed her cheeks and played with her hair, the constellations that drew themselves in the sky at this time of the year. Once she'd grown a bit sore from sitting, as she hadn't been slipping into the shadow, she stood to stretch her legs and once more found her way up to the attic.

It was not until then that she'd noticed the note pinned to the door upstairs. A moment of panic, but Misery calmed as it didn't seem as something of alarm or near time; just a note Xander had thoughtfully left for her to know where he was. The notion and the content brought a smile to her lips, a prick of loneliness, that Misery settled swiftly by seeking out Truffles to huggle.

She read the note again, leaned against the attic door while Truffles seemed to be debating whether to allow being held or to escape with a hiss. Misery, who shared the curiosity all cats had, felt just a bit unnerved by the lonely 'P.S.' with no real message to follow. Did Xander decide that it was unimportant? Or had he changed his mind about the last thought?

Pondering on it could wait; right now, Misery had a house to explore.

Subject: Re: The Attic Wed Jan 30, 2013 11:48 pm

A dark blue letter fluttered on to the table a sticker over the back of a little blue jay. Inside was a small note that was printed in small neat letters as if someone was trying to concentrate while writing it.

"I left your mothers ring on the coffee table in my house, don't worry I won't be there. It is something very important that I believe you should have back... if there is anything else please take it....
- Casandra Valentine. "

Subject: Re: The Attic Sat Feb 16, 2013 10:11 pm

The navy blue letter laid forgotten on coffee table, untouched. Dust clung to every inch of the Attic, covering the books of fairy tails and magic to Luke's father's instruments that still whistle or puff now and again. The house that Luke grow up in, that breathed life and laughter into every nook and cranny now crumbled under desolate and despair.

Even though there were no signs of life for awhile now, Luke stood near the lake. A course of spring time winds caressed his face. It has been one month since he last step foot in that house. Even at a distance he could tell that vines and weeds clung to the walls as if mother nature wanted to reclaim the spot for her own. Watching the shutters of the attic window flutter open and close, undeniable loneliness settle in the pit of Luke's stomach. This was not the home he held so dear in his youth anymore, but the worn out baggage of bitter memories.

As if some unspoken word was given, between the house and the only heir of the Brown estate, the surrounding area around the house glowed shimmering gold, before turning back to its original state. With a small click like a key to a lock, the house sealed itself off. With his errand completed, he wasted no time. With a small pop, he was gone.

Unknown to him, sitting on the coffee table was the twin black books him and Cazz used to write in, and his mother's wedding ring, as if the house itself invoked the Return to Owner Spell.

Subject: Re: The Attic Mon May 18, 2015 3:03 pm

He was beginning to ease back into the depths of unconsciousness, until the whole room shook with the load crack of Misery’s wand and the booming of the mini explosion she cast. “Are you seriously trying to kill me or do you like just being a pest?” Luke said forcing himself to sit up right. There was no going back to sleep now even if he was clubbed over the head with a mallet. Misery saw to that.
Luke stared at the damage Misery caused. Moon beams filtered into the room through the two large holes that used to be a wall and his window. Now he had a perfect, unobstructed view of the lake and forest below. He would have preferred his wall and window than the breath taking scenery, seeing as how there was a chilly nip in the air. His attention did not linger on the destruction of his property, but on Misery. She seem pale, more pale than usual. Her quick-witted, snarky remarks were as sharp to the point as usual, but Luke could tell something was off. “You’re sick.” It wasn’t a question, it was a matter of fact statement. Misery had this air about her, a regale demeanor that could fool anyone about the state of her health. Well, almost everyone.

Luke did not need to ask any questions, like why she wasn’t home, resting or why did she come here of all places. He did not need that information. Instead, he said, “Here,” sliding off the bed, and tossing the sheets over Misery, forgetting that he was only in pink polka dot boxers.

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