[ 𝑭𝑰𝑹𝑺𝑻 𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑴 ]
'* . ° " i waited for hundreds
of years, only to feel
unsatisfied of this
love we force to feel. " ° . *'
𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 celeste waited for th...
; June 1702, Transylvania - 89 yrs. old (from her real birth, a week before her birthday)
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THE DRAUGHT oov. | ' ninth step ' _________________
CELESTE SAT AT THE same spot-same chair that she's been sitting for weeks now. She still couldn't find a book that would tell her something about the creature that she hears to lurk every night. No, she didn't want to get out of her room, there wasn't just a Gryffindor trait in her.
She irritatingly rolled her eyes as she crumpled one more parchment. What a waste she had been doing. Today had been a Saturday, she went straight to the Library when she ended lunch to get more time. But here she is hours later, with nothing found at all, she just felt aggravated.
She whips her head and lets her eyes meet the clock, her eyes widened of how much time she has to get to her Herbology and Potions class. She excelled in the subject, she always loved putting things together and resulting to something right.
She hurriedly picked up her scattered parchment and quills. Checking her surroundings once again, she tapped her hands on the books and all of it flew back to the shelves where they used to be. For her mess, she swayed her hand inward and flicked it outwards with the spell, evanesco.
Since there is a rule that they cannot run in the halls, she only brisk walked. It is forbidden to run not because you might fall, it's because a properly lady doesn't run. And of course, with another roll of her eyes, a lady is never late.
She brisk yet again to the silent, empty, and cold halls. The chill still makes her feel unsettled, how every step of hers, she still feels being watched.
Reaching the hut beside the greenhouse, she halted steps away from the open door. She checked herself. Is her hair tied properly without any falling hair? Is her clothes without crease? Is her face without ink from the quill? Is she looking like a proper lady?
Because of Ladywork course, she started feeling conscious. The other students with her were younger and of course they act like children... unlike her. Sometimes she feels like she hates herself for it, it is the same lessons her mother let her take-only harder and stricter now.
With one last sigh, she went in with a stone-cold face. Putting her walls to look intimidating, when she just mostly scare them away. Not that she should care, but even when she doesn't want attachments, she misses the friendly Celeste who is friendly and imperfect.
"Now, now, Girls."
Professor Ivanoff hushed down the little whispers that the other girls shared, Celeste is only a minute early before their class starts. She heaved an audible sigh when the professor had met her gaze and gave her a distasteful look.
