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morgynleriTitle: Cold
Word Count: 511
Status: uncertain
Genre: none
Rating: PG13
Commentary: Any
Her eyes were cold as the ice that sealed the lake to protect its dezians from the winter's harsh grip, beyond the cynical outlook that most with the expression professed to. The chill of death, without the comforting safety of that state of being, or the peace of loosing one's soul, and never knowing what was lost.
He held out a tightly folded packet of papers that swiftly vanished into one of the hidden pockets of her robes. A trick he'd learned from her, or she'd learned from him, he'd forgotten which, years ago, before that coldness had crept into her eyes. He held her gaze for a moment longer before she turned away, vanishing through the falling snow.
A snort escaped his lips as he likewise turned to leave the rendezvous, his footsteps muffled by the deep layer of snow. Appropriate that they should meet in a landscape of ice and cold, a place devoid of any life beyond two strangers who might have once called each other friend. If circumstances had permitted.
Perhaps, in another world, they had been. Or perhaps more. Some days he wondered, imagined what life might have been if he'd been born there. Before he shook off the foolish fantasy for the harsh call of reality. For his duties, fraught with danger as they were. For that slight thrill that he gained from doing what he'd trained for since he was fourteen.
Sirius Black wrapped his cloak tighter around him before Apparating back to his family home, the waiting goblet of mulled wine, and the overwhelming silence of a house empty except for the scion of a dying house.
~ ~~ ~
There are days when his expression flirts with a smile, when his eyes don't reflect the landscape around them. White and cold, where the snow never melts, and no one knows what creatures lurk in the lake miles beneath their feet. The coldness she hoped never thawed, even when a flicker of memory screamed that once she craved the summer, and warmth. Wailed that once she would have wanted to see that hidden smile, and that well-masked desire.
She buried that voice once more under the layers of ice and steel built over the years. The world didn't forgive those who showed a weakness like that. Simply tore them up, and spit them out. It couldn't afford weakness; couldn't afford to lose even one insignificant Mudblood witch.
The snow muffled sound, but didn't silence the faint pop of Apparating, and she nodded before continuing her trek through the storm to where she'd left her Port-Key. The tugging was long familiar, and she landed at the end of the tunnel that led home.
Lily Evans rapped a tattoo on the door as she arrived, the metal creaking aside to let her into a welcoming warmth, the papers in her cloak rapidly borne away to Dumbledore, to let him know what intelligence existed on the elusive Dark Lord. She shed her heavy garmets to settle in next to the fire, alone in the midst of people once more.
Word Count: 511
Status: uncertain
Genre: none
Rating: PG13
Commentary: Any
Her eyes were cold as the ice that sealed the lake to protect its dezians from the winter's harsh grip, beyond the cynical outlook that most with the expression professed to. The chill of death, without the comforting safety of that state of being, or the peace of loosing one's soul, and never knowing what was lost.
He held out a tightly folded packet of papers that swiftly vanished into one of the hidden pockets of her robes. A trick he'd learned from her, or she'd learned from him, he'd forgotten which, years ago, before that coldness had crept into her eyes. He held her gaze for a moment longer before she turned away, vanishing through the falling snow.
A snort escaped his lips as he likewise turned to leave the rendezvous, his footsteps muffled by the deep layer of snow. Appropriate that they should meet in a landscape of ice and cold, a place devoid of any life beyond two strangers who might have once called each other friend. If circumstances had permitted.
Perhaps, in another world, they had been. Or perhaps more. Some days he wondered, imagined what life might have been if he'd been born there. Before he shook off the foolish fantasy for the harsh call of reality. For his duties, fraught with danger as they were. For that slight thrill that he gained from doing what he'd trained for since he was fourteen.
Sirius Black wrapped his cloak tighter around him before Apparating back to his family home, the waiting goblet of mulled wine, and the overwhelming silence of a house empty except for the scion of a dying house.
There are days when his expression flirts with a smile, when his eyes don't reflect the landscape around them. White and cold, where the snow never melts, and no one knows what creatures lurk in the lake miles beneath their feet. The coldness she hoped never thawed, even when a flicker of memory screamed that once she craved the summer, and warmth. Wailed that once she would have wanted to see that hidden smile, and that well-masked desire.
She buried that voice once more under the layers of ice and steel built over the years. The world didn't forgive those who showed a weakness like that. Simply tore them up, and spit them out. It couldn't afford weakness; couldn't afford to lose even one insignificant Mudblood witch.
The snow muffled sound, but didn't silence the faint pop of Apparating, and she nodded before continuing her trek through the storm to where she'd left her Port-Key. The tugging was long familiar, and she landed at the end of the tunnel that led home.
Lily Evans rapped a tattoo on the door as she arrived, the metal creaking aside to let her into a welcoming warmth, the papers in her cloak rapidly borne away to Dumbledore, to let him know what intelligence existed on the elusive Dark Lord. She shed her heavy garmets to settle in next to the fire, alone in the midst of people once more.
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no subject
Date: 2007-03-05 08:38 am (UTC)rondervous should be rendezvous, I believe.
no subject
Date: 2007-03-05 06:23 pm (UTC)This little vignette is all I got from them last night. I'm not sure how they got where they are, or where they're going. Or how much of it they're going to tell me. Perhaps, slowly.